


The Hog's Head

by MyGinevra



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-06 09:09:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 54
Words: 386,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4215900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyGinevra/pseuds/MyGinevra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While I was reading the Harry Potter books, I increasingly came to wonder why Ginny did not play a more important part in Harry's life, especially after the events in <i>Half-Blood Prince</i>. So, with Harry pretty much ignoring her during and after the Battle, but with Ginny being the last thought in Harry's mind before he "died," I decided their story needed a remedy. <i>The Hog's Head</i> is an unabashed romance that follows the lives of Harry and Ginny from the Battle of Hogwarts through the following year.</p>
<p>Chapter One, "Faith," begins during the Battle as Lord Voldemort calls his truce. It follows canon precisely but from Ginny's point of view. My own plot, post-DH, begins with Chapter Two, "Anticipation."</p>
<p>Descriptions of Hogsmeade and locations of its various buildings are based on <a href="http://www.hp-lexicon.org/atlas/britain/atlas-b-hogsmeade.html">the map of Hogsmeade</a> in The Harry Potter Lexicon.</p>
<p>While you are at it, please take a look at my original novels, <a href="http://www.hancockhill.net">Hancock Hill</a> and <a href="http://www.actingobsessed.com">Acting Obsessed</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Faith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter One, "Faith," contains two verbatim quotes of dialogue from _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_ (US edition). The first is from page 696, the second from page 741. There is an additional paraphrase of another line from page 759.

Ginny picked her way across the rubble in the entrance hall and walked out the front doors. She glanced back to be sure no one had seen her and slipped into the shadows that extended out across the lawn.

She had to get away from the body of her brother, and from George who was holding Fred’s head in his lap, pressing his forehead to Fred’s, his unending tears bathing Fred’s bloody face. He would not move away, nor would Percy, kneeling at Fred’s feet, also hunched over but with his arms extended as though trying to ward off the wall of stone that had collapsed on them, crushing the life out of his brother. Her parents simply sat, next to the body, holding each other, Molly sobbing uncontrollably, Arthur staring into space with tears streaming down his face.

Ginny had felt paralysis creeping into her heart, joining the grief there, and that was when she knew she had to get away: she could not let herself succumb to that paralysis.

She had not seen Harry for hours, ever since he and Ron and Hermione had disappeared into the Room of Requirement on their mysterious mission. She had followed Tonks downstairs to the Great Hall where she fell in with Luna and Dean, fighting up and down the corridors until the disembodied voice of Voldemort had filled the halls with its seductive message of false peace and its lies about Harry, and had called a truce.

She and her companions had gone back to the Great Hall a few minutes before Percy staggered in carrying the body. Ginny had screamed and thrown herself at Percy, beating her fists against him in a rage, trying to will away the death that stared from eyes that had always been laughing but now saw nothing. Bill pulled her away and she flailed at him but he held her close until her screams had become sobs. That was when she had felt herself falling into the pit of defeat, but when Ron and Hermione returned without Harry, she pulled herself up from the floor where she had collapsed next to Fred, and told herself what she had been telling herself all year: she had to be ready for Harry; the time would come when he would need her and she had to be ready. She walked out of the Great Hall, wiping her face and taking deep gulps of air.

Now she was moving across the lawn into the darkness. Bodies were strewn everywhere, many of them students, and she stopped at each one to see if she could do anything. Most were dead, and she began to weep again as she recognized faces and saw their wounds. She tried wiping away the blood from their faces with her sleeves, until they became soaked and could not absorb any more, so she just wiped as much blood off as she could with her hands, and cleaned them on the grass.

One or two were still alive, but she was afraid to move them; she didn’t trust herself to use a Levitating charm, and she could not have physically lifted them. She called to some other students who were also out on the lawn looking for friends or relatives, and told them to hurry back to the Great Hall and get help. They did what she asked; maybe her role in Dumbledore’s Army and her reputation as Harry’s girlfriend lent her a bit of authority.

She left the body of a sixth–year Hufflepuff boy, Joseph Pierce, who was in her Herbology classes and a friend of Neville’s, and walked on. She was now about two hundred yards from the castle and it was very dark, but she did not dare light her wand. There were not many bodies here, but she heard moans off to her left, and hurried towards them.

She found a crumpled form, its limbs twisted gruesomely, lying near the path to Hagrid’s cabin. She knelt next to the body, but it was so dark this far from the castle that she could see almost nothing. She moved to be between the body and the outer walls of the grounds, and lit her wand but kept it as dim as she could.

She cried out and turned away when she saw the girl’s bloody, mutilated face. Her stomach churned; she had to fight down the impulse to vomit that rose in her craw, but forced herself to look. There were bloody gashes on the girl’s cheeks and forehead, and her nose seemed to have been torn away. She was gasping through her mouth with a rasping sound. Ginny thought of Fenrir Greyback, but it also looked, because of the positions of her bent limbs, as if someone had deliberately broken both of her arms and legs.

The girl’s eyes were open and they looked up at Ginny, unfocussed and glassy. Ginny steeled herself and tried to wipe the blood from her face—what was left of it—and bent low over the girl. With some of the blood gone—although it kept oozing from her nose and the gashes—Ginny recognized Elizabeth Derby, a fifth–year Ravenclaw. Elizabeth’s hair was long and blond. Ginny knew that she was very popular, and was considered one of the more beautiful girls at school; there were even rumors that she had veela ancestors. Ginny was also quite certain that she was only fifteen, and so she must have sneaked back into the Great Hall during the evacuation of the underage students. She had decided to stay and fight, and she had ended up like this.

Ginny caressed her forehead and leaned down closer to her disfigured face. She did not know if Elizabeth could hear her, but she began to speak.

“It’s going to be all right,” she said. “We’ll get you back inside. You’ll be all right.”

Elizabeth turned her eyes to Ginny, and they seemed to focus. The girl’s arm, which Ginny thought had been twisted into an impossible position, somehow moved and her hand reached up and grabbed Ginny’s. “I don’t want to go back there. I want to go home. Mummy. Where is Mummy?”

Ginny wiped more blood from her forehead to keep it from running into her eyes. “It’s all right. We’ll get you back inside. You’ll be okay.”

“But I want to go home. I don’t want to fight anymore.” Tears began running down her face, mingling with the congealing blood from her nose.

“I know,” Ginny said, her voice breaking. “It’s going to be all right.”

Ginny looked up; she thought she had heard footsteps, but no one was near. She peered into the night and then she did hear steps, but they were moving away. She held her wand up, but there was nothing.

Elizabeth’s grip suddenly tightened and Ginny bent down again. The girl was now staring up at the sky, her eyes filled with terror. Her rattling breath came in choking gasps. She turned her head to Ginny and her hand went limp. Ginny let it drop and slumped on the ground next to the lifeless body. She did not try to stop her racking sobs.

She didn’t know how long she sat there weeping, but she knew that it was getting close to the time of Voldemort’s deadline, when the attack would resume. She doused her wand and stood; she had to get back to the castle. She had to be with her family, and she wanted to see Harry, even if she could not speak to him. She had no illusions about how this was going to end; all she had to do was look down at the broken, mutilated form at her feet.

She heaved a sigh that caught the last sob in her throat, and started to walk towards the castle. On the third step the darkness around her suddenly vanished and a blinding vision filled her head. She was in her Quidditch robes in a crowded common room, and she was running towards the portrait hole, but all she could see there were two emerald green points of light. She flung herself at them and kissed Harry’s lips, wrapping her arms tightly about him, and now it was not a vision but she _was_ kissing him and her entire body was anchored to his. He started to move backwards, away from her, but she held onto him even more desperately, refusing to let him go.

The vision vanished as suddenly as it had appeared, and she was alone on the lawn in the darkness.

Ginny stood rooted to the ground, unable to move or even think. The sky spun above her, and she swayed dizzily with her heart pounding. She could feel the wetness of the kiss on her lips, but putting her hand to her mouth she tasted blood and spat it out. The euphoria vanished. Here she was, and there was the body of Elizabeth Derby, and she had no explanation for what had just happened.

She began walking again, but stopped when she heard distant bangs, and turned to peer through the darkness at the Forbidden Forest. Spells and sparks were rising above the trees. A spell would rise into the air, and a few seconds later she heard the bang that accompanied it. She also thought she heard far off shouts and cheers. _They must be coming_ , she thought.

She turned and started walking again, then began to run and didn’t stop until she reached the steps to the castle, where a few people stood, gazing towards the Forest. She passed through them and went into the Great Hall, looking for her family.

Molly was on the platform at the back of the Hall with the rest of the Order; Kingsley Shacklebolt was in the center of the group, and leaned towards Molly and said something to her as Ginny entered the room. Molly turned and jumped down from the platform and came running to her, weaving through the knots of people standing and sitting on the floor.

She stopped in front of Ginny. Her eyes were red and puffy, and strands of hair kept falling in her face. She took Ginny’s hands in hers and stared at them, horror–stricken. “Where were you? What happened?”

“It’s not my blood,” Ginny said in a strangled voice. She looked at her mother. “Clean them, Mum, please, please!”

Molly Scourgified the blood, and Ginny dropped her hands. “They’re coming. I was outside looking for people on the lawn. The Death Eaters are sending up signals.”

“Yes, it’s almost time,” Molly said distractedly. “And no one knows where Harry is.”

Ginny looked quickly away; she did not want her mother to see how frightened she had suddenly become. Now she knew whose footsteps she had heard in the darkness. _But there was the vision,_ she thought in desperation. Had it been a farewell? She stumbled blindly to the door and back into the entrance hall.

A small crowd was there, and in a moment Ron and Hermione joined her. “Have you seen Harry?” Ron asked, glancing around anxiously. Ginny looked at them wordlessly, but turned; she did not want to speak of her vision, not before she knew what had happened to Harry.

The voice of Voldemort rang out again. When it began speaking of the death of Harry Potter, Ginny listened for an instant, but began to shake her head violently; she put her hands over her ears and looked down, squeezing her eyes shut. She would not believe it, she would not believe that Harry was dead, no, not with the claim coming from the mouth of the master deceiver, not with the feel of Harry’s lips on hers still so real. She would have to see it with her own eyes before she would believe it.

Voldemort’s voice stopped, and for a few minutes there was silence. Ginny glared at Ron and Hermione, daring them to believe what Voldemort had said, but they would not look at her.

Someone standing on the steps outside shouted, “They’re here!” People poured out of the Great Hall, moving towards the doors. Ron pushed them open, and Ginny stepped through with him and Hermione. When she came out onto the steps she saw Death Eaters spreading out before the castle in a long, menacing line.

Suddenly Professor McGonagall screamed. Ginny jumped, as startled by who it had come from as much as by the piercing sound. But she pushed forward and came to the front of the crowd on the steps at the same moment as Ron and Hermione.

Before her stood Voldemort, a great snake wrapped around his shoulders. Next to him, with a waterfall of tears pouring down his face, stood Hagrid cradling the limp form of Harry Potter in his arms.

The world tilted under Ginny’s feet, and she, Ron, and Hermione all screamed. Voldemort glanced at them, his red eyes momentarily gleaming, but Ginny clapped her hand to her mouth. Her mind was reeling, but she would still not believe it, she would not accept what her eyes saw. She flashed back to the vision, and her lips suddenly moistened again, and Ginny knew, beyond any doubt, with her entire being, that Harry was alive.

People around her began shouting curses, screaming at the Death Eaters, until a loud bang and a flash of light from Voldemort’s wand silenced them. He spoke to Hagrid and gestured, pointing to the ground at his feet, and Hagrid gently placed Harry’s body there. Harry lay still, he did not move, and Ginny could feel Ron trembling next to her and hear Hermione crying on his other side. But Ginny did not cry. Tears were not needed for Harry. She would save them for those who needed them, for Fred, and for Elizabeth.

Voldemort spoke in mocking tones to the throng on the steps, but Ginny no longer cared about his words. She did not take her eyes from Harry. There was movement around her, people shifting, taking out their wands, muttering. Someone near her shouted, and she saw out of her peripheral vision that Neville was charging forward, only to be stopped a few yards from Voldemort, his wand blown away. Ginny’s eyes stayed fixed on Harry.

Then, for an instant, the two emerald green points of light that she had seen in the vision appeared again, but this was not a vision, and a shock like a magical spell jolted her body. Ron reached to hold her, thinking that she needed support, but she stood rock steady. For the tiniest moment, the two points of light had appeared where Harry’s eyes were.

Ginny knew that no one else had seen that blink of green; everyone was looking at Neville and Voldemort. Neville was shouting at Voldemort, who responded with contemptuous sneers. He waved his wand, and Neville stood straight and rigid, unable to move.

Ginny still had not taken her eyes from Harry, and she saw the green points again, but this time his eyes stayed open. Voldemort waved his wand, and those around Ginny looked up as something soared out of the castle into Voldemort’s hand. Another jolt coursed through Ginny when she recognized the Sorting Hat, and the hope which had already been rising inside her, now flared into certainty: she remembered five years back to the Chamber of Secrets, and knew that Voldemort himself was about to deliver the tool of his own destruction into the hand of his enemy.

Voldemort walked forward and placed the Sorting Hat on Neville’s head, and Ginny, still staring at Harry, leaned towards Ron and whispered, “Watch Harry.”

Ron turned to her, total incomprehension on his face. But as Ginny began to say more, the world exploded around them. The Sorting Hat burst into flames, there were distant shouts and the sound of thundering hooves from the edge of the grounds, a rush of wings from the sky above, and the booms of a giant’s footsteps to her right.

Voldemort looked around, and a moment of alarm passed over his face. It was instantly replaced with rage, and he looked back at Neville, but too late. Ginny had seen Harry jump up and throw his Cloak over himself, and she saw the Shield charm come up between Neville and Voldemort. Silver and red flashed, and a giant snake head flew into the air.

Chaos erupted. Ginny shot a Stunning spell at Voldemort but it missed and struck a Death Eater standing behind him. Voldemort whirled, looking for the source of the spell. People shouted and screamed. Ginny tried to get closer to where Harry had been, but there was now a mob of defenders and Death Eaters in front. A deep booming voice from behind shouted, “Fight them! Fight them!” and spells and jinxes filled the air.

Ginny was pushed back through the entrance hall and into the Great Hall along with the rest of the castle’s defenders. She stood for a moment, uncertain, as Death Eaters too were forced into the room. But Hermione grabbed her. “Stick together!” she shouted over the roar of voices and the explosions of spells. Luna was with her, and Hermione pointed her wand at a tall female Death Eater only a few yards away. But as Hermione’s spell shot towards her, she whirled with a maniacal screech, parried it, and sent what seemed like dozens of hexes back at them. Ginny recognized Bellatrix Lestrange, and a fury that she had never felt rose in her. This was the witch who had killed the only family that had been left to Harry.

The three girls had their hands full. “Spread out!” screamed Hermione, and in the instant that Ginny was momentarily distracted, a sheet of green flame passed just in front of her, barely missing her face; she could feel its heat and jumped back. She heard another scream, and thought that someone had been hit, but a hand threw her aside and her mother stood in front of her, shouting curses at Bellatrix and firing spells so fast that Ginny could not follow them.

She had never seen her mother like this, a madwoman with murder in her eyes. She seemed to have grown taller, and her hair was a flaming red mane. Bellatrix began taunting, and Ginny saw her mother’s face become colder as her wand became a blur. Bellatrix let out a shriek of insane laughter. Ginny heard her mother snarl like an animal, and her next spell hit the Death Eater square in the chest. Bellatrix dropped to the floor, dead.

A shriek of rage and a loud bang came from the other end of the Great Hall. Ginny saw three bodies fly through the air and crash to the floor. The shriek had come from Voldemort, who was in the center of a large circle of people. Ginny looked around and saw no Death Eaters standing, but to her amazement there were dozens of house–elves around the room, some with bloody knives and cleavers in their hands; she could also see centaurs waving their bows, shouting and stamping their hooves.

A Shield Charm appeared in front of Voldemort, and Harry was standing there, and the room erupted in cries of “Harry!” and “He’s alive!” Hermione grabbed Ginny’s arm, an expression of total joy spreading across her face. Ginny just looked at her and smiled. “I knew he wasn’t gone,” she whispered. “I always knew.”

The room went totally silent, and Ginny turned to see what was happening.

Harry and Voldemort were circling each other, wands raised. Ginny pushed to the front of the circle they were prowling, watching their dance, a dance of death. She watched Harry as he circled. When he was in front of her, his back only a few feet away, she lifted her wand a few inches, closed her eyes, and willed her love, her total love, into his body. When Voldemort was in front of her she stared at the back of his hairless head and emptied her mind of everything; she did not want to give him a hint of her presence or what she was feeling for Harry.

The dance continued, and Ginny sensed the climax approaching; she saw it in Harry’s eyes as he circled across from her, and she saw his wand come up a fraction of an inch. As he approached her again, she listened to what he was saying.

“It’s your last chance, it’s all you’ve got left,” Harry said. “I’ve seen what you’ll be otherwise.” He was directly in front of her now, and she sent a wave of emotion towards him. He hesitated for a fraction of a second. “Be a man . . . try . . . Try for some remorse.” Ginny saw uncertainty in Voldemort’s eyes, but it was instantly gone, and he and Harry continued to circle.

Ginny only watched Harry. They were talking about wands, when suddenly the ceiling overhead burst into light as the sun rose, and a massive explosion filled the Great Hall when red and green flames met in the center of the circle, and Tom Riddle lay dead at her feet.

She stared at the body for a moment, then looked across at Harry. Their eyes met. but Hermione was charging across to Harry and jumping on him and screaming as Ron was hugging them both, and Ginny found herself next to Harry with her arms around him for the first time since last summer, and they were surrounded by a mass of screaming people and house–elves and centaurs and Hagrid.

As Ginny finally relinquished her place next to Harry, he glanced at her again and she knew what his eyes were saying: today was for the rest of the world, but tomorrow would be hers. She smiled, but as she started to pull her hand from his, the cheering, jostling crowd pushed them momentarily together again, and his palm pressed into her thigh. He left it there for a longer moment than he had to and Ginny felt a flush of heat rise into every part of her body, radiating from the place where his hand was touching. They were separated by the mob, and Ginny moved slowly away.

When the cheers and the celebrations had died away, and the tables had reappeared and people began to sit, Ginny found herself back with her family. She didn’t try to look for Harry, content this day to leave him for others. She rested her head on her mum’s shoulder and looked towards the side of the room where the bodies of fallen friends and family lay. Her eyes began to fill with tears. George and Percy were with Fred again, and Ginny knew that as today wore on and when she awoke tomorrow his death would not seem real. She did not know what the world would be like without Fred.

She saw Ron and Hermione walking towards the door, separated by a space of about two feet, and Ginny knew that Harry was between them under his Cloak. She watched them leave, and heaved a sigh and took her mum’s hand. Molly squeezed it and put her arm around Ginny and pulled her to her bosom, weeping.

Ginny put her arms around her mother. Her heart had filled with pain again, but it was also now buoyed by a glorious feeling of hope and anticipation. Harry would be sleeping in his room in Gryffindor Tower, and Ginny would be sleeping in hers, only a few yards away, under the same roof. Today and tomorrow and for a long time there would be days of grief, but starting tomorrow would also be an endless time of rediscovered happiness. She knew that all would be well.


	2. Anticipation

The second day after the battle dawned overcast and warm. When Ginny awoke in her four-poster she was momentarily disoriented and did not recognize where she was. But as soon as she looked up at the red and gold canopy, she remembered: Fred was gone, and it was as if a massive weight fell on her. She closed her eyes again, and everything flooded back, swirling images of explosions, bodies, spells, blood, destruction. Over it all was the face of her dead brother.

But there was also another face, a face with green eyes looking at her from the middle of a screaming, joyous mob. Even as tears for her brother spilled down her cheeks and onto her pillow, she realized that she was hugging herself and, more than anything except the return of Fred, wanting Harry to hold and comfort her.

Low voices came from the room; she wiped her face and pushed back the hangings. Three cots lined the wall next to her bed, and she remembered that the seventh-year dormitory room was unusable. The only serious damage sustained by Gryffindor Tower was a large hole in the peaked roof, and the uppermost girls room now had an open-air skylight. The house-elves had set up cots in the sixth-year room, and Hermione, Lavender, and Parvati had moved in. Hermione’s cot was un-slept in; Ginny assumed that she, Ron, and Harry had stayed up with the teachers and the Order, deciding what to do next, making plans for taking back the Ministry of Magic, doing whatever it was you did after you won a war.

“’Morning, Gin, how are you?” Parvati called. She and Lavender were still in their cots, and a white bandage was wrapped around Lavender’s head.

Ginny shrugged. “Not great.”

Parvati nodded. “I’m sorry.”

Parvati’s question had brought a lump to Ginny’s throat, and she took a breath. The two girls looked at her, and Ginny noticed that Lavender’s eyes were red and swollen. “I cried all night for Colin,” she said. “They made him leave, but he came back . . .” She couldn’t go on but turned her back to the room and began sobbing softly. Parvati put her hand on her shoulder.

“Did you see Hermione last night?” Ginny asked as she got up and began dressing. “Was she here at all?”

Parvati glanced at Lavender. “Uh, no . . .” She hesitated.

“I heard that that Room of Requirement with the hammocks was still open,” came the voice of Sarah Brushmore, one of Ginny’s sixth-year roommates, from behind the hangings of her four-poster. “I also heard that a bunch of people stayed there last night.” Parvati sent a dirty look in Sarah’s direction, and Lavender’s sobs became louder.

“What about the prefects?” Ginny asked.

A giggle came from the four-poster. “Some of them _were_ prefects.”

Ginny was puzzled for a moment, but a light came on and she looked sympathetically at Lavender, adding her own scowl to Parvati’s, directed at the invisible Sarah. And she also smiled tightly to herself: if Ron and Hermione had slept in a hammock together last night, she would remember, if it turned out that Ron still believed he had the right to make comments about her own love life or bust into her own room again without knocking.

She finished dressing, went down to the common room and looked around for Harry, but he wasn’t there. She hurried out the portrait hole and down to the Great Hall, passing piles of rubble and damaged furniture, portraits, wall hangings, and suits of armor. Students were wandering around looking at it; many of them were holding hands, and many had tear-stained faces. The damage to the castle itself was terrible: holes blasted in walls, windows shattered, timbers splintered, bloodstains everywhere.

But the most remarkable thing that Ginny saw, in every hallway and corridor, were the house-elves. She had never seen so many outside the kitchen. They were everywhere, scurrying about sorting damaged items, carrying stones and lengths of timber, sweeping floors and cleaning walls. She didn’t see anyone directing them, but they all seemed to know exactly what to do. She also passed through corridors where damage had already been repaired; Hogwarts was starting to recover.

The Great Hall still showed major signs of damage: blast marks scorched the walls, and most of the windows were broken; but the enchanted ceiling was intact, showing a cloudy sky, and all four House tables were set up with many people eating at them. The bodies that had lain along the wall were gone.

Ginny spotted Bill and Fleur at the Gryffindor table with their backs to her. She walked over and put her hand on Bill’s shoulder, and when he turned his head and she saw his grim face her tears began to flow again. He took her in his arms and Fleur pressed her hand to Ginny’s arms, wrapped around Bill’s neck.

When Ginny was finally able to stop weeping, she wiped her face and dished porridge into a bowl, which she proceeded to attack; meals had been sketchy yesterday, and she hadn’t realized how hungry she was. Bill put his hand on her shoulder. “Harry was here,” he said. “He asked for you, but he had to go see Kingsley up in McGonagall’s office and he said he’d be back as soon as he could.”

Ginny nodded, remembering the rush of heat through her body when Harry put his hand on her thigh in the middle of that raucous crowd of celebrants after the battle. She bit into a slice of toast, swallowing with difficulty, and glanced around the room. “Where are the . . .”

“They set up a big marquee on the lawn, right outside the doors. All the bodies were moved last night. Mum and Dad are there.”

When she was finished Ginny went outside. The marquee stood just off to the side of the drive, and was not as big as she had thought—or feared. It was light gray with a peaked roof and only one opening. She walked inside and saw coffins set in rows on tables. Each one had a large bouquet of white flowers on it, which Ginny recognized from Herbology: syntle, a small white flower that was said to grow on land where the dead were buried. Professor Sprout had only one planting of it, since it was quite rare, but here, somehow, there were hundreds of them bringing a touch of beauty into a somber place.

There were many people in the marquee, in small and large groups gathered around coffins. The Weasleys were standing next to one in the front row, and just behind them Ginny saw Andromeda Tonks with an infant in her arms, sitting next to a table on which rested two coffins. Kingsley Shacklebolt was with her, and another woman Ginny did not recognize: she was slender and dark-skinned, wearing white robes and a white turban.

Ginny walked towards her family; they were all there—including Hermione leaning on Ron’s shoulder—except Bill and Fleur. Her mother detached herself from the group and met Ginny as she approached. Molly looked exhausted, haggard. Her eyes were puffy; her hair pulled back and tied, but it was uncombed. Her clothes looked like they had been slept in, but Ginny didn’t think her mum had slept at all. Molly took Ginny’s face in her hands and stared into her eyes; the ferocity Ginny had seen when she had killed Bellatrix was gone. In its place was a distant confusion, as if she were lost.

Her mum embraced her, and Ginny could feel her trembling. Molly held Ginny tightly, almost uncomfortably, for a long time. Her father finally came and led them back to Fred’s coffin. George was leaning on it, his head bowed. Ginny stood on her tip-toes and kissed his cheek. He hugged her, but began to weep and turned away.

Percy, Ron, and Hermione were sitting in chairs on the other side of the table, facing Ginny, and they looked up as footsteps stopped behind her. She turned to see four strange wizards looking at her.

“Excuse me, Miss Weasley,” the man who appeared to be the oldest said. He was dressed in simple robes, with a rough-hewn face and eyes that might have been kind except for the pain in them. His hair was graying, but may have been blond at one time. They all nodded to Arthur.

Ginny looked uncertainly at her father. “How can we help you?” he asked the wizard who had spoken.

He dropped his eyes. “I’m sorry to bother you, sir. I know you lost your son. I’m sorry.”

Arthur nodded. “Did you want to ask Ginny something?”

“Actually, we wanted her to show us something.”

Arthur frowned, and Charlie moved to stand next to Ginny. The wizard noted his muscular bulk. “If you don’t mind, that is.”

“What do you want?” said Arthur. “You know who we are. Who are you?”

“Forgive me. My name is Jensarod Wilson, this is my brother Herlo, and these are John and James Derby. We thought that maybe—”

“You’re Elizabeth’s brothers,” Ginny said to the two Derby wizards.

“No, Miss,” the one named James answered; his hair was dark, but Ginny remembered that Elizabeth’s eyes were blue like his. “Lizzie was my niece, we’re all her uncles. We heard that you were with her when she . . . at the end.” His voice broke. “We were hoping you could show us where it happened and maybe tell us something about it.”

Ginny leaned back against the table. She didn’t really want to go back there, nor did she want to talk about what she had seen. But she also saw the pain in the four pairs of eyes looking a her. “I’ll do it,” she said in a low voice.

“Ginny, you don’t have to go down there,” her father said.

“No, it’s okay, I’ll go.” She looked around at her brothers. “Can someone come with me?”

Charlie stepped forward immediately and took Ginny’s arm. As they started to walk away she paused and turned to Ron and Hermione. “If Harry comes, tell him I’ll be right back.”

She let the uncles lead her and Charlie out of the marquee but turned them off the drive and started across the lawn towards the Forbidden Forest. She walked slowly, trying to retrace her steps of two nights ago. After about ten minutes, she stopped next to a spot where the grass was stained brown. She looked at the Forest and back at the castle, then pointed to the bloody grass.  “This is it. She was here when I found her.”

The four men stared at the spot. “What was she like?” Jensarod said to Ginny.

Ginny looked at the sky. It was overcast, and was beginning to appear stormy; a small breeze had sprung up. She could hear birds singing in the trees at the edge of the Forest. Charlie put his hand on her shoulder. “You don’t have to talk about it,” he murmured.

She swallowed and forced herself to speak. “No, I want to.” She gave Jensarod a blazing look. “I want everyone to know what she looked like, what they did to her. Her face was bleeding. She had big gashes on her cheeks and forehead. Her nose was . . . was gone, it just wasn’t there. It was just a . . . a bloody hole. And her arms and legs were broken. They did what they wanted, and then they threw her away.” Ginny’s eyes brimmed and she began to shout. “She wanted her mum! She was scared and she wanted to go home!” The wizards leaned back from the force of her voice.

Her voice dropped. “I was holding her hand and it went limp. That was all.” She looked at the bloody grass, and at Elizabeth’s uncles. They looked as if they had been clubbed over the head. “Didn’t you see her before they closed the coffin?”

Jensarod shook his head. “They had already sealed it. They told us they couldn’t undo the magic.”

“Let’s go back,” Charlie said.

“Miss Weasley,” John Derby spoke as Ginny was about to leave. “Thank you for being there. It must have been . . . really hard.” Ginny just looked at him, but he continued. “Tell Harry Potter that as far as I’m concerned he’s the greatest wizard who ever lived. We heard what he did, how he walked into their camp. Tell him that.”

Ginny turned and started walking, just as she had two nights ago, except that now Charlie was holding her arm, keeping her from stumbling. She counted her steps, and at the third one put her hand to her lips and closed her eyes. She _had_ kissed Harry, even though it was just a vision. She ached for him, and a sob escaped through her fingers. Charlie tightened his hold and they soon came back to the marquee.

Everyone was still there, except Ron and Hermione. Her father told her that Harry had shown up and waited, but Neville had come and said he needed help right away with something up in the Room of Requirement, and Harry had left with Ron and Hermione. “Harry said he’ll be down for lunch,” Arthur finished.

They all stayed in the marquee for another hour, talking quietly, bringing Andromeda into their group after Kingsley and the dark, slender witch left. Percy told Ginny that she was Saliyah Ushujaa, Kingsley’s companion and an Auror. Ginny walked around inside the marquee and found Elizabeth’s coffin and saw her parents. Her mother bore a resemblance to Fleur, and Ginny realized that the rumors about Elizabeth’s veela ancestry were true. Elizabeth’s father talked to her and thanked her for trying to comfort his daughter, but his wife sat in a chair next to the coffin and did not take her eyes from it and did not speak.

“She was our beauty,” Mr. Derby said through tears. “Now she’s gone.” Ginny could bear no more, and left the marquee.

The Great Hall was filling up for lunch, and Ginny sat at the Gryffindor table, facing the door so she could see Harry when he came. But when Neville appeared with Luna and Dean, Harry was not with them. They all sat across from Ginny.

“Harry and Ron and Hermione had to go into Hogsmeade,” Neville reported. “Something’s going on at the Hog’s Head between Aberforth and some goblins. Shacklebolt wouldn’t say what it was, but he wanted Harry there.” Ginny sighed and poked at her food; she was no longer hungry.

Luna glanced at the Ravenclaw table. “Let’s eat over there tonight,” she said. “That would be a nice treat for them, they’d like that. Harry was really angry.”

“Huh?” Ginny was pouring herself a glass of pumpkin juice, and looked at Luna.

“Yeah,” said Neville, as he reached across Dean and grabbed a chicken leg from a serving dish. “He was really pissed off. He said you were waiting for him at lunch, but McGonagall and some bloke from the Ministry showed up and whatever was happening in Hogsmeade was getting worse, and they really needed Harry. Dunno why, though,” he shrugged.

Before Ginny could question him further, Neville was distracted by two sixth-year Hufflepuff girls who Ginny knew from her classes. They stopped behind him. “Hi, Neville,” said one, a very pretty dark-complexioned brunette; she smiled at him. “How’s your big sword?”

Ginny gagged on a mouthful of pumpkin juice, splattering it all over Luna, who seemed only mildly surprised by the orange shower. Neville turned bright red, and Dean nudged him, grinning at the two girls.

“It’s, uh, it’s fine,” Neville stammered, a drumstick suspended half-way to his mouth.

“Can you show it to me?” the brunette asked in a throaty voice.

There was a thump under the table, and Neville scowled at Dean. But he dropped the drumstick on his plate and stood.

“Sure, it’s up in my room. Come on, I’ll get it.” He looked at Dean again, who nodded encouragingly, and after another second Neville turned to the girls. “Why don’t you wait, uh, wait up on the seventh floor in front of that big tapestry with the dancing trolls?”

The one who had spoken took Neville’s arm. “We’ll wait anywhere you want.” They walked towards the door, but just before they reached it the girl on his arm glanced at her friend, who peeled off and went the other way, back to the Hufflepuff table. Neville and his new friend disappeared into the entrance hall.

Ginny watched them leave and Scourgified Luna. “Has that been happening a lot?” she asked Dean.

“Yup. At first he ignored it, but I had a few words and now it looks like he’s right on top of it.” He grinned at Ginny.

“Well, I wish him luck,” Ginny said as she got to her feet. “By the way, did Harry know when he would be back?”

“No. Sorry, Ginny. But like Neville said, he was really ticked off.”

Ginny left the Great Hall and went back outside to the marquee. Her parents and George were still sitting by the coffin, so she pulled up a chair and stayed with them, mostly holding her mother’s hand, occasionally weeping. She saw Elizabeth Derby’s uncles come in, and noticed that there were a very large number of people gathered around that coffin, plus a young female house-elf who was holding the bouquet of syntle. As Ginny watched, Elizabeth’s father helped her mother stand, and one of the uncles took his wand out and the coffin rose off the table and floated ahead of the family as they moved out of the marquee. John Derby nodded to Ginny as he left and she bowed her head in return. And even though she tried not to, she remembered the blood on the grass.

Ginny decided to leave, also; she followed the Derbys outside and went up to the common room feeling tired and dispirited; she did not know if she even wanted to see Harry right now. House-elves were still bustling about, and she was surprised at how much progress they had made. All of the windows were repaired, there were no longer piles of furniture or other damaged items in the hallways, and she did not see any bloodstains on the walls. It was amazing, she thought, almost a miracle. Her spirits rose, and she entered the portrait hole hoping against hope that Harry would be there.

He was not, and Ginny’s mood collapsed. None of her friends were there either, so she slowly climbed the stairs to her room, hoping now that it would be empty, wanting to be alone and not have to talk to anyone. This hope was fulfilled, and she lay down on her bed, pulled the hangings shut, and, feeling thoroughly sorry for herself, had a good cry and fell asleep on her wet pillow.

When she awoke and opened the hangings she saw that she had slept away most of the afternoon and the sky was darkening; she could hear distant rumbles of thunder echoing in the hills. Her roommate, Christina, was standing in front of a mirror adjusting her clothes and primping her hair. “Hi, Ginny,” she said when she saw Ginny in the mirror. “Harry Potter was just in the common room looking for you.”

Ginny jumped out of bed, ran a brush through her hair, straightened her blouse, and rushed downstairs. She didn’t see Harry, but Ron was standing next to a table glancing through a copy of the _Prophet_. He looked up when Ginny came over and showed her the headlines: _Shacklebolt Takes Over Ministry_ read the first, and below it: _Prison Conditions Worsen As Azkaban Fills Up_.

“No matter what happens,” he grumbled, “no matter how good things are, they’ll always find something to complain about. I mean, who gives a rat’s ass if they pack a hundred of them into one cell?”

Ginny ignored his rant. “Where’s Harry?” Ron frowned, and Ginny’s spirits sank once more.

“He and Hermione got called up to McGonagall’s office—again. Some Muggle git found the tent we were using and got lost in it. Harry asked me to wait here and tell you he’ll meet you at dinner.”

Ginny’s frustration had turned to resignation. Maybe they would have better luck tomorrow. “Come on, then,” she sighed, “let’s go eat.”

They trudged down to the Great Hall—even more damage had been fixed in the hallways—and joined the rest of the family. But of course Harry and Hermione did not show up. They all went outside to the marquee after the meal and stood around the coffin in candlelight, holding hands. Bill told Ginny that they would be taking Fred home tomorrow to be buried the day after at the Burrow. When she heard that, she broke down. It was final, totally final. Fred would be in the ground; she would never see him again. She would visit his grave and cry, and that would be the closest she would ever get to him, ever. Bill held her as she sobbed inconsolably, until finally, gasping for breath, she tried to pull herself back together.

Ginny knew that it wasn’t just the finality of the impending funeral that was turning her into a weeping mess. She needed Harry. She had waited almost a year, and now that he was in her grasp he kept slipping away. She was constantly touching her lips, feeling his kiss, but now she wanted the real thing, not the after-image of a vision. She had never known such longing, not even in the darkest days of last winter when Harry was somewhere out in the cold world running from death and she didn’t know if she would ever see him again.

She found herself alone back in the common room, waiting for Harry, curled up in a chair under a window being pelted by rain as lightning flashed and thunder rolled. The storm was perfect as far as she was concerned; let it rain on everyone, why should she be alone in her misery? As the hour grew late, Ginny slipped lower into the chair and dozed.

A peal of thunder awoke her. She sat up and looked around; the common room was empty, the fire almost out. She heard a noise and saw the door to the boys’ stairwell closing behind someone; she thought she saw a shock of black hair and a lanky body.

She jumped up, but as she called, “Harry!” a loud clap of thunder drowned her voice. She ran to the door, opened it a few inches and peered up. She heard footsteps and called again, but whoever it was kept climbing.

She pushed the door open and stepped into the stairwell. She had been in the boys tower only once, and felt a little awkward; she did not want to run into anyone in his skivvies, even though she had long ago got used to it at the Burrow.

She started quietly climbing, but met no one and heard no one. At the top she hesitated. What if it wasn’t Harry? Still, the worst that could happen was that she would find one of his roommates in his underwear, and she had seen worse things than that.

She knocked softly. “Harry?” After a short moment she heard footsteps. The door opened, and Dean stood in front of her in his pajamas holding up a lit wand; behind him was Seamus also with his wand alight.

Dean blinked. “Blimey, Ginny, what are you doing here?”

“I thought I saw Harry come up. I fell asleep in a chair and someone came up the stairs, and I . . .” She felt herself blush, and Dean smiled.

“He hasn’t been here all day, as far as I can tell.” He turned to Seamus, who shook his head. “But if we see him, should we tell him . . .?”

“No, no, that’s all right. Tell him I’ll see him in the morning. Thanks.” She turned and started down the stairs, but stopped at a window half-way down and looked out. Flashes of lightning lit the hills across the lake. Below was the marquee, illuminated in a ghostly fashion by dozens of candles. The shadows of a few people moved around inside, still mourning, still unable to leave their loved ones. Harry was like one of those shadows. He had been moving about all day as she looked down from above, unable to reach him, unable to . . .

She stopped herself. This was silly; she would see him tomorrow. But still, it was frustrating that a whole day had gone by, a day that she had been anticipating for almost a year. Everyone else had wanted Harry, and everyone else had got him, except—

The door at the foot of the stairwell opened and closed and someone began climbing. Ginny turned, her heart pounding, and Harry stood before her, looking tired and surprised.

“Blimey, Ginny, what are you doing here? I was looking for you everywhere. Hermione went up to your room but you weren’t there and . . .”

“And?” Ginny was trembling; she was sure Harry could tell.

He walked slowly to her. “Why did you come up here?”

“I was looking for you. I fell asleep in a chair, and I thought I saw you go upstairs, but Dean said you weren’t there and . . .”

“And?”

He put his arms around her and kissed her mouth. She kissed him and he was crushing her against him and his hands clutched her hair and his mouth was kissing her face, her eyes, her nose, her chin, her lips. She was digging her fingernails into his back and he was kissing her fiercely and she was beating her palms against his back, wanting to rivet their bodies together. They were on their knees, their thighs and bellies and chests pressed together. Harry’s hands were all over her and she was crying out and Harry pushed her down.

“No, no, Harry!” she gasped. “Not—not—”

“Not what?” He was breathing fast; his mouth was on her neck, his hands on her shoulders, pressing her to the floor.

“Not here. Someone might come.” She sat up and leaned against the wall, panting. Harry was on his knees in front of her. Their breathing gradually slowed.

He got up and held his hand to her and pulled her up. “Come with me, I know where.”

They made their way to the corridor outside the Room of Requirement, and when it opened for them and they stepped inside, Ginny saw dark velvet curtains all around lit by dim candles, and a thick carpet on the floor. It was very quiet, not in a sinister way but hushed.

The carpet muffled their footsteps as Harry led her along a curtained, silent corridor. They came to a break in the curtains; Ginny saw a chamber, walled by more curtains, with a large hammock suspended in the air, and candles glowing with a soft yellow light.

Harry pulled her inside, and the curtain closed behind them; the world was quiet and still. “Someone found this the morning after the battle,” he whispered. “I guess they needed some privacy. I don’t think the teachers know about it yet.” He grinned.

“It’s lovely. It’s perfect.” She sat on the hammock and when he sat next to her they rolled into it. It was made of a fine, soft silky material, and when they put their heads down, puffy satin pillows appeared underneath them.

Harry reached down and pulled both of their trainers and socks off. They lay back, wiggling their toes. Ginny turned to him, but before she could speak they heard a clanking noise nearby, and high, giggling laughter. They heard a deeper voice, and even though it was muffled, they both recognized it.

“Neville?” said Harry, a little surprised.

“Sounds like. I think he’s taking advantage of his new rep.”

“Good for him. I was thinking of doing the same thing myself.”

“Oh, so you think you have a rep?”

“I’m hoping. Do I?”

“Yes. And I was also hoping you would take advantage of it.”

They did not sleep at all, and between caresses they talked for hours.

 

########################

_Author’s Note_

Readers of Professor Tolkien will recognize a reference in this chapter to a plant he described that has come down to the wizarding world from Middle Earth. It was known through the Third and Fourth Ages of Middle Earth as symbelmyne, but wizards know it by a different name, syntle. The Professor’s history does not tell us how it managed to survive so long as a magical species in Britain, and I will not speculate here.


	3. Best Mates

At breakfast the next morning Ginny noticed that two people kept glancing at her. One of them, Ron, had a crease in his brow and didn’t speak to either her or Harry. The other, Fleur, smiled at her and spent a lot of time pushing food at Harry, saying he needed to keep up his strength. Ginny thought that what Fleur didn’t know might surprise her, but she said nothing. Maybe Harry’s yawns were giving the wrong impression.

As for Ron, the two-faced git could go stuff it, as far as Ginny was concerned. If all he did was throw looks at her and Harry, things might be okay, but if he went any further, she would have it out with him, even though she sincerely hoped he would not say anything during the next few days; neither she nor her parents nor any of her brothers, especially George, needed a family row right now.

But these unpleasant thoughts didn’t linger. Harry was sitting next to her, and even though his head kept drooping, he kept offering to fill her glass from the pitcher of pumpkin juice, and would not let her serve herself; it was sweet, if a little annoying, but he had never behaved with such determined chivalry before, so she let him do it. Her brothers and parents definitely noticed, and she saw quick smiles sent her way.

There was one other thing that especially kept Ginny from stopping Harry’s attentions: it really seemed to please her mum. She smiled at Ginny for the first time since the battle, and ate a normal breakfast, not leaving most of her food on the plate as she had been doing. Ginny just hoped that she wouldn’t find out about last night.

The plan for the day was to Portkey to the Burrow as soon as everyone could get ready. Ginny, Ron, Harry, and Hermione went back to their rooms after breakfast and packed whatever they would be needing for the next day or two, since their trunks might be delayed because most of the house-elves were still busy repairing the castle. Ginny said goodbye to her roommates and hugged her friends with more than a few tears, not only because of the deaths of Fred, Colin, and all the others, but also because some of them were leaving Hogwarts and would not be back at school in September.

She gave Dean a special goodbye hug. “Maybe we’ll run into each other in Diagon Alley,” Ginny said to him as she was about to leave the common room. “Or maybe we’ll have a D.A. reunion at the Burrow.”

“That would be fun,” he smiled. “Good luck, Ginny. I’ll see you around.” As she was climbing out the portrait hole Ginny looked back one last time and saw him sit down with Parvati, Lavender, and Seamus; Parvati had her arm around Lavender who had been weeping again over Colin Creevey.

Ginny hadn’t seen Neville in the common room, and kept a lookout for him and Luna on her way downstairs. He appeared around a corner as she was about to descend the marble staircase to the entrance hall, with the Hufflepuff girl who had spoken to him at lunch yesterday.

“I’m glad I saw you,” Ginny exclaimed. “We’re leaving soon. I wanted to say goodbye. I don’t know when I’ll see you again.”

Neville stood awkwardly, his hands jammed in his pockets. “Well, I guess . . .”

“I’m Keesha Baker.” The girl held out her hand. Ginny shook it and they grinned at each other. “We’ve been in a few classes together, but we never talked.”

“Maybe we can next year,” Ginny said. She turned to Neville. “Take care, Neville. I’m sure we’ll run into each other. I told Dean we should have a D.A. reunion some time. Do you think your Gran will mind?” She laughed.

Neville also smiled. “Not any more. ‘Bye, Ginny.” They stood looking at each other.

Ginny threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. She was not surprised that they both had watery eyes. “You were my first date,” she whispered.

“But not your last,” he laughed. Ginny gave him a quick peck on his cheek, squeezed Keesha’s hand, and hurried down the stairs before she started bawling. She didn’t see Luna, but knew that she and her father would be at the funeral.

Many other families were also leaving, and a large pile of traveling bags filled the entrance hall. Ginny went outside and found the Weasleys gathered around Fred’s coffin in the marquee; Harry and Hermione were also there. Ginny gave Harry a quick kiss with all of her brothers watching. Harry glanced around, and they all looked away except Ron; he just stared at Harry. Ginny’s mouth was about to open when Bill stepped between her and Ron; he looked at Ginny, put his finger to his lips, and shook his head.

George led the family outside with the coffin floating before him, directed by his wand. Arthur and Molly came next. Ron and Hermione were behind them, and then Charlie and Percy, followed by Ginny and Harry; Bill and Fleur brought up the rear. It seemed to Ginny that Charlie had deliberately put himself between her and Ron. When she looked at Harry he was staring ahead at Ron. She took his arm and he put his hand on hers.

The Department of Magical Transportation had set up tables on the other side of the drive where families could place the coffins; officials from the Department were processing them and scheduling Portkeys, and as each family Portkeyed away, a coffin blinked out and disappeared.

George set Fred’s down, and they all walked to another table on which lay dozens of battered old shoes, dust bin lids, dented pots, and other assorted objects. An old witch with yellow teeth sat behind it; a sign next to her read, “Portkey Office. Please Form A Single Line. Thank You.” The Weasleys joined the queue. When they reached the front they saw that Professor McGonagall was also there, and she hugged both Molly and Arthur.

“We’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, then turned to Harry. “Professor Flitwick asked me to tell you that he will be there and you can discuss the matter with him.”

Ginny looked questioningly at Harry. “I wanted some private tutoring,” he said under his breath. “We missed a whole year.”

Ginny was puzzled. “But how will you do that? He can’t leave Hogwarts just to teach you, can he?”

Harry smiled. “I’ll tell you later.”

The Portkey Office witch greeted them as she shuffled through a stack of parchments and placed an old rabbit-ears antenna in front of them. Everyone put a hand on it, and as Hermione was explaining to Arthur exactly what a television channel was, they were all in the yard of the Burrow, and Fred’s coffin was on the ground next to the door. As soon as Molly saw it she stumbled over and collapsed, pressing her head against it and sobbing.

The entire family rushed to her side. Harry and Hermione hung back, uncertain, as they watched Bill and Arthur help Molly to her feet and take her inside. The rest followed, leaving the two alone in the yard.

Hermione was twisting her fingers, and Harry noted the nervous twitch. “It’s going to be hard,” he said.

Hermione nodded. “Yes, I can’t imagine what it’s like, burying a . . .” She looked at him. “But you can imagine it, can’t you? Your parents and Sirius all died.”

“Yeah, I can.” He frowned. “Look, Hermione, what is it with Ron? Ginny and I did the exact same thing you and he did. He’s starting to get on my nerves.”

Hermione’s hand-wringing tempo increased. “I’m sorry, Harry,” she said, looking at him apprehensively. “I’ve talked to him, but he’s got this thing about his baby sister. He was always treated like _he_ was the baby. You’ve seen Fred and George tease him and ridicule him. So Ginny was the only one he could be, you know, higher than. He means well, he just wants to protect her.”

“From me?”

“No, no!” Hermione was close to tears. “That’s not it. Oh, please, Harry, don’t be angry with him, not after everything we’ve gone through. I’m so happy that you and Ginny are together. Give him some time to get used it. Please?” She had started crying, and Harry put his hand on her shoulder.

The door opened and Ginny and Ron walked out. “Sorry,” Ron muttered. “We kind of forgot about you. Are you okay?” He took Hermione in his arms and held her, patting her back as she sobbed on his shoulder. “I know, I know. We all miss him.”

Harry turned away and shook his head, but only Ginny saw it. “So what’s going to happen now?” Harry asked her.

Ginny shrugged. “We have to get the house ready. There’ll be a big crowd tomorrow. And we have to dig a grave.”

Harry thought of the other grave he had dug only a few weeks ago, although it seemed like years. “It’s not really my business,” he said, “but I think you should dig it without magic. That’s what I did for Dobby, and it felt right.”

Ginny giggled in spite of herself. “Dad would get to use a Muggle spade.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Hermione sniffled; she had stopped crying and was wiping her face with a handkerchief that Ron conjured. “I’d like to help, if that’s what you decide to do.” She looked at Ron.

“Sure.” He regarded the cluttered yard. “But I don’t even know where they want to put it.”

“Beyond the garden, next to that big oak,” Ginny said. “I heard Dad talk about it this morning.”

“Sounds like a good spot.” Ron looked back at the house. “I wonder what’s for lunch?”

Ginny laughed and took his arm and they all went into the kitchen. To their amazement, Molly was bustling about with her wand out. Dishes and utensils were flying in all directions, and an aromatic stew was bubbling on the stove. The rest of the family were seated at the table.

Molly’s wand flashed, and a large loaf of fresh bread soared out of the oven and onto a cutting board, where a knife started slicing it.

“Hey, Mum, that’s a killer wand you’ve got there,” Ron called.

He froze as his mother whirled on him, her face contorted, her wand pointing at him. “Ronald Weasley,” she hissed between clenched teeth, “you will not joke about that, not if you know what’s good for you.” Her voice quivered with anger, and Ron took a step back.

“Molly!” Arthur said sharply. “He was joking. Put your wand down, for goodness sake.”

She quickly lowered her wand and slumped into a chair. The bread knife clattered to the floor. “I’m sorry, darling,” she blurted to Ron, holding her arms out. “Come here, I’m sorry.” Ron walked slowly around the table and bent down as his mother hugged him. He just as slowly walked back to his seat between Hermione and Bill; his face was white. Bill patted his arm.

Charlie got up and finished setting the table and putting out the food. They ate, mostly in silence. Molly left the table with her meal untouched and went upstairs without speaking. Arthur followed, and the rest looked at each other.

“I never saw her do anything like that,” Percy finally said.

“No one ever died before,” George said. Again there was silence.

Ron stood and left without a word. Hermione jumped up and followed him upstairs, and Harry also rose. He glanced at Ginny and followed Hermione. When he entered Ron’s attic room, Hermione was sitting on the bed next to Ron with her arm around him. Ron looked up as Harry sat on his cot, but said nothing.

“It’s all right, sweetheart,” Hermione said. “She loves you, you know that. You just startled her.”

Ron bowed his head; he looked miserable. “I can’t take much more of this. Everything is a disaster.”

Hermione squeezed his shoulders. “Not everything. Voldemort is dead, you and I are here together, and so are Harry and Ginny.”

Ron looked balefully at Harry. “Maybe that’s part of the disaster.”

“Ron, no!” Hermione cried.

Harry stood, glaring at his friend. “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?”

Ron also rose to his feet. “You know damn well what it means, mate.” Ron spat out the last word. “She’s underage. I know you spent the whole damn night in that room with her. What did you think, no one would notice?”

“Ron, no!” Hermione again cried. “I’m sure it wasn’t what you think!”

“Yeah, right.” Ron shrugged her hand from his arm and scowled at Harry. “It was bad enough you led her on before we left!” he shouted over Hermione’s cries of protest. “What if you hadn’t come back? Where would that have left her? And then, right into the sack as soon as you could get your hands on her. You didn’t waste any time, did you?”

Harry pointed his finger at Ron. “You’re over the line, mate, so watch it. And Ginny makes up her own mind, in case you haven’t noticed after sixteen years.”

“And you helped her right along, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, I did, because we love each other. What’s your excuse?”

“Harry!” shrieked Hermione.

Harry put up his hand. “I’m sorry,” he said to Hermione, “I didn’t mean that.” He took a breath and let the scowl drop from his face. “Look, Ron, Ginny and I are together, whether you like it or not, so why don’t you just accept it?”

Ron ground his teeth. “I told you. She’s too young. She doesn’t know what she’s doing.”

“Oh, come off it,” Harry scoffed, his anger rising again. “She knows what she’s doing better than I do, and sure as hell better than you do.”

Ron took a step towards Harry, his face livid. Hermione grabbed his shoulder, even though she was crying hysterically. “Please, stop it, both of you!” she shouted. “You’re both acting like babies!”

“Fine,” said Harry. “I’ll stop.” He pointed his finger at Ron again. “You just leave Ginny alone, understand? If you have any more problems, come see me. You know where I live.”

“She’s my sister!” Ron yelled. “I’ll do whatever the bloody hell I want—”

The door was flung open and Charlie and Bill strode into the room. Ron stepped back from Harry.

“What in the name of Merlin is going on here?” Bill demanded. “We can hear you all over the house. Mum is in tears again. What are you trying to do, Ron, destroy her?”

Before Ron could answer, Charlie took Harry’s arm. “Ginny’s down in the parlor, Harry. Why don’t you go?”

Harry turned on his heel and stomped out. He heard Hermione follow, and the door close. He could hear Ron start to speak and Bill’s voice cutting him off, but the words became indistinct as Harry descended. He passed Ginny’s room and that door opened and closed behind him as Hermione went in.

Percy was sitting alone at the kitchen table and stared at Harry passing through into the parlor. Ginny was there, standing in the middle of the room, an angry look on her face. Fleur was sitting on the couch. They both looked at him.

“‘Arry, what is wrong?” Fleur began, but Ginny was crossing the room. She took Harry’s hand and, ignoring Fleur, pulled him out the back door. She continued past the garden and into the woods, and didn’t stop until they were well out of earshot of the house.

She turned to face him. “What happened? Why were you yelling? Mum’s hysterical again.”

Harry looked into her eyes and remembered how much her mother’s had reminded him of Ginny. “I’m sorry. Ron said some things, and then I said some things I shouldn’t have. He’s furious that we spent the night together.”

Ginny’s nostrils flared slightly and her eyes flashed; Harry had to suppress a smile, knowing that she had just validated everything he had said to Ron. She grimaced. “Harry, tomorrow is Fred’s funeral. Please don’t let Ron get to you. It’s making it hard on everyone. We don’t need this.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” He put his hands on her shoulders and Ginny came into his arms. “I won’t let it happen again. But he’s obsessed. We weren’t even talking about us and he started yelling.”

Ginny sighed. “That’s why Bill and Charlie went up. If they can’t talk sense into him, at least they’ll make him shut it until after the funeral.”

“But?” Harry could tell that she wanted to say more.

But . . . I don’t know. He’ll get over it, I’m sure he will.”

“I hope so. He’s my best mate. And my girlfriend’s brother.”

She smiled up at him. “I like the sound of that.” They kissed, and Harry absentmindedly ran his finger along her neck and inside the collar of her blouse. Ginny stopped his hand with hers. “What is it?” she asked. “Is something bothering you?”

“Now how do you know that?”

“You’re trying to say something, aren’t you?”

Harry turned and started walking back and forth in front of her. He put his fist over his mouth and coughed “I, uh, I wanted to ask . . . about last night.”

Ginny put her hand on his arm and stopped his pacing. “What about it? Harry, it doesn’t matter to me what Ron thinks.”

“No, that’s not it. I mean, I do care what he thinks, but . . . I want to know what _you_ think.”

Ginny had a coy smile. “Couldn’t you tell last night?”

“Ginny, that’s not what I meant, either. I never did anything like that before, and I guess I need to know if it was the right thing to do.”

“I repeat, couldn’t you tell last night?”

Harry had a slight frown on his brow, but he quickly smiled. “How do you know so much? No, no! I don’t mean it like that. I mean . . . how do you . . .?” He stopped. “I’m saying this all wrong.”

Ginny laughed. “No, you’re not. Harry, do you think I would have sat down in that hammock if I thought it was wrong? If I had the slightest doubt? Did _you_ have any doubts? You didn’t act like you did.”

“No!” Harry almost shouted. “No, I didn’t. And I don’t now. Damn, I don’t know how to say this. It’s just that your family were all watching us at breakfast, so maybe they know, or they figured it out. And now Ron . . .”

Ginny walked to a nearby tree and sat next to it; Harry joined her. “Well,” mused Ginny, leaning against the trunk, “Fleur knew, and maybe Bill, and obviously Ron. But I didn’t get the impression that anyone else knew. They all thought you were adorable, though.” She laughed as Harry blushed.

“What do you mean? What did I do?”

“You were very attentive to me. It was sweet.”

“Did you mind?”

Ginny traced his face with her fingers. “I liked it, but don’t start smothering me.”

Now it was Harry’s turn to laugh. “How could anyone smother you? Isn’t that what Ron’s trying to do?”

“I guess you could say that. But, Harry, my whole family loves you. I don’t think it would be good if my parents found out about last night, though.”

He kissed her. “You’re beautiful. Let’s go back.”

They walked back to the Burrow holding hands, and just as the house came in sight they saw the back door open and a parade of the entire family emerge, except for Molly and Fleur. They were all carrying either a shovel or a pickaxe. Arthur was holding his spade straight in front of him like a flagpole; the others held theirs at their sides.

“They’re not using magic to dig the grave,” Ginny exclaimed, “just like you said.”

They followed the procession to the foot of a huge oak tree about a hundred yards from the house. When Harry and Ginny got there, George was taking up the first shovelful of sod. They all stood back and watched him dig methodically and without expression, until they all saw that tears were streaming down his face. Percy joined him. The others took turns two at a time, and the grave deepened.

When Charlie and Ron stepped into the hole, Ron began wielding his spade furiously. He glanced up once and Harry caught his eye, but Ron looked quickly down again. Harry walked to the grave and stood as close to Ron as he safely could, but Ron still didn’t look up. When the hole was about two feet deep, he paused and wiped his forehead. Harry moved closer.

“Ron,” he said quietly. Ron looked up and Charlie stopped digging; all the others turned towards Harry. Ron stared at him, his face red and sweaty. It was very quiet; Hermione had her hand to her mouth.

“Ron, I’m sorry,” Harry said.

Ron nodded. “Me too.” He spoke just as quietly as Harry, and resumed digging, but not as violently as before. Hermione let out her breath with a sigh that everyone heard. Charlie cleared his throat and went back to work.


	4. The Funeral

With everyone working in shifts, the grave was soon finished. Bill Levitated the last two diggers, Charlie and Ron, out of the grave, and they all walked back to the house. Molly watched from an upstairs window; as they approached she turned away.

The rest of the day was spent preparing the house and grounds for the funeral. Bill thought there might be as many as three hundred coming, and since they could not possibly fit all of them in the house, they decided to hope for good weather and keep everyone outside. Arthur was nervous about this decision, since he did not think it would be a good idea to use a weather charm in the event of rain; it might draw too much attention from the Muggles in the village. But they had no choice, so Bill put Ron to work using Geminio on an old umbrella that Charlie retrieved from the ghoul’s attic.

“Six years of an overpriced education, then one year of defeating the most powerful Dark wizard in the world, and this is what I end up doing,” Ron grumbled. “Just because I scream at people sometimes doesn’t mean I always have to get stuck with the worst jobs.” He scowled at Bill.

Bill patted him on the back. “Your job is vital, bro’. Oh, and Percy will tell you when you have enough umbies. And just conjure one at a time. We don’t want to be stuck with any extras.”

“It probably won’t even rain!” Ron yelled at Bill’s departing back, after telling him under his breath to go perform a certain physically impossible act on himself.

Ginny and Fleur took over the kitchen and tried their best to keep Molly out, but when she kept poking her head in and telling them which cooking spells to use, Fleur went and got Bill, and he stayed with his mum the rest of the day to keep her out of their hair.

Charlie attacked the huge mass of clutter in the front yard, and for a while he was having a bad time of it. Most of the broken old Muggle objects had been hexed, charmed, and jinxed so many times over the years by his father that the lingering magic was often hard to detect and would pop up at inopportune moments. An old automobile engine that had been in the yard for decades, and had no discernable source of power, started running as soon as Charlie Levitated it. Instead of floating gracefully out of sight behind the old broom shed, it zoomed loudly out the gate and down the lane. It might have kept on going except that Hermione happened to spot it just before it disappeared around the curve, and she managed to hit it with Finite.

Charlie promptly drafted her into the cleanup operation, and the yard was soon cleared. The rest of the family marveled; no one remembered ever seeing it so pristine. “That was a lot more trouble than dragons,” Charlie muttered to Hermione.

Percy took charge of the funeral notices and seating arrangements. He spent all afternoon owling the Ministry workers they expected to show up, plus merchants from Diagon Alley, joke suppliers and manufacturers, Hogwarts staff, Fred’s former classmates, and even some of his foreign contacts. Since Hermes, Errol, and Pigwidgeon had no hope of handling even part of the load, he Apparated into Diagon Alley and rented a dozen fast owls from Eeylops. He returned with them to the Burrow—Errol was indignant when he saw the flock—and soon had an efficient system set up whereby, as soon as an owl returned with a response, another notice was ready to go. He ran his operation from a table next to the garden, but soon Molly came out and made him move farther from the house; the owls were perching on the roof and making a mess.

George retreated to his room. Ginny went looking for him after no one had seen him for an hour, and she found him sitting on the floor surrounded by cartons of surplus Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes stock, with their contents scattered around him. He refused to tell her what he was doing, and Ginny decided that she’d better not tell either her parents or any of her brothers what she had seen. When the door to George’s room closed behind her, she heard the squelching sound of a Colloportus charm sealing it.

Harry wanted to help, but no one would let him. First, Fleur pushed him out of the kitchen when he went there simply to be with Ginny. When he tried to help Percy he accidentally switched two invitations out of order on Percy’s master list, and was told rather officiously that his services were no longer required. By the time he went out into the front yard it was almost completely cleared, and when Hermione told him to go clean out the spiders from the old shed, he looked at her blankly. “How?” he said.

“Your wand, Harry, your wand,” she clucked. “Honestly.” Harry gave her a sour look and went back into the parlor.

He found Bill and Mrs. Weasley sitting on the couch looking through an old photo album. Molly was crying and laughing at the same time. Harry sat down with them. There were old photos of the children, and Molly sighed as she peered at each one. The ones of Ginny caught Harry’s eye; he saw a mischievous little girl looking back at him, and occasionally there was even a photo with that blazing look that he would never grow tired of.

Molly smiled at his reaction. “You know, I don’t recall her pictures being quite so animated before. Here, look, she’s winking at you in this one. I’m sure she never did that before.” Molly handed him the album and pointed to a picture of Ginny sitting in a swing hanging from a tree; she looked to be about six years old, and was wearing shorts and a tee-shirt with the words, “I’m Magical” inside a large heart-shaped design. She had a big grin, and waved as the swing went back and forth. Harry couldn’t take his eyes from it.

Molly dabbed at the corners of her own eyes, and put her hand on Harry’s arm. “Harry, I want you to know that I’m so glad you’re here. It’s a huge comfort to Ginny. And to all of us.” She looked at Bill, who grinned, and she patted Harry’s arm again.

Harry turned the page. There were pictures of Ron and Percy, but before he could get a good look at them, a loud thud and two shrieks came from the kitchen. “Mum, help!” came Ginny’s cry, and before Bill could stop her, Molly shot out of the parlor and was on her way to the rescue.

Harry flipped through a few more pages, looking at photos of the Weasley family on holiday, around the Burrow, in Arthur’s cramped office at the Ministry of Magic, and at Hogwarts. The children were always laughing and had their arms around each other; the Hogwarts pictures showed Quidditch teams and leaving ceremonies, with Arthur and Molly—the proud parents—standing nearby or hugging someone. Ginny was in most of them, always smiling and hamming it up for the camera.

Bill watched Harry’s face. “You have nothing like this, do you?” he asked. Harry shook his head. “I’ve been talking to Fleur,” Bill continued, “and we’d like to have you and Ginny come stay with us at Shell Cottage for a week or two after the funeral. There’s enough room, as you know.”

Harry nodded; he suddenly had trouble finding his voice. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, that would be nice. I’d like to do that. Did you ask Ginny yet?”

“No, I haven’t had a chance. But it’s okay with Mum and Dad. She was cooped up here and at Muriel’s for two months, and she’s never been to the Cottage. I know she loves the sea.”

Harry didn’t get a chance to talk to Ginny before dinner; it took quite a while to remove the congealed bread pudding from the ceiling. The kitchen table was laden with the dishes and serving utensils for tomorrow, so they ate outside next to the garden. Ginny was busy bringing food in and out, and didn’t have time for conversation.

After dinner Harry walked with her down the lane to the village. He had never been in Ottery St. Catchpole, and they wandered down the streets and into the village square. Ginny mentioned Bill and Fleur’s invitation. “I’m not really sure I want to go,” she said. “I don’t want to leave Mum alone. And I don’t think George is planning to go back to the shop yet. I feel funny about leaving him right after the funeral.”

Harry was disappointed. He had wanted to go back to see Dobby’s grave, as well as spend time with Ginny away from the constant buzz of her family. But mostly he just wanted to be with her, so if it had to be at the Burrow, that would be fine. “Maybe I’ll just go for a few hours by myself. I kind of wanted to visit Dobby’s grave.”

“Oh.” Ginny hadn’t thought of the grave. “I’ll come with you, if you want.”

Harry took her hand. “I’d really like that. I miss him.” They walked back to the Burrow hand in hand.

When they got there they found Lee Jordan in the parlor talking with George, Bill, and Charlie. They greeted Lee, and went out back where Hermione and Ron were sitting at the table that Percy had used as headquarters for his owl operation.

“We’re going up to London after the funeral,” Hermione announced. “George said we could stay in the flat over the shop. Ron’s going to start applying for jobs at the Ministry, and I have to see someone at the Institute.”

“The what?” asked Harry as he conjured two more chairs; Ginny had been about to do it but her father, who was sitting under a peach tree behind the garden, called out and warned her not to do magic; she pouted as she put her wand away.

“The Arithmancy Institute," said Hermione. "They owled me with an invitation to come in for an interview. They have an intern program that I’ve been interested in for a while. It would be a fabulous place to work. They do the most advanced research in the world there.”

Harry glanced at Ron. “Yeah,” Ron said. “I’m hoping Dad can get me into the Games and Sports Department, but anything would be okay. I just want to get away.”

Suddenly Harry felt a wave of sympathy for best friend. Ron _was_ the baby, as far as most of his family were concerned. Ginny might be the youngest, but she was also special because she was the only girl. Ron was just the brat, always tagging along, always the butt of insults and teasing. “That’s brilliant, Ron,” he said, “and living in Diagon Alley too. That’ll be great.”

“Yeah, it’ll be good to get off on my own. This family can be a load, if you know what I mean.”

“I do know what you mean,” Ginny said and leaned across the table and took his hand. She looked at Harry. “Maybe we all need to get away for a while. Or at least a week or two.” She smiled.

Later, after dark, Harry and Ginny strolled down the lane again; Ginny didn’t want to walk behind the house and the open grave. It was peaceful and quiet except for insects chirping and frogs croaking. It had gotten cooler and they wore light jackets; Harry had borrowed an old one of Ron’s that fit him.

“What made you change your mind about Shell Cottage?” Harry asked as they looked up at the stars.

“I was thinking about Dobby, and I suppose I didn’t realize how important that was to you. And I’ve never been to the Cottage. Maybe Fleur and I could even become friends.” She chuckled and leaned her back against him and he put his arms around her. “Ron’s moving out also made me think. If Mum and Dad said it was okay for me to go, they must figure that they’ll be all right.” She turned to face him, and he saw tears on her face. “I don’t usually cry this much, you know. Maybe we won’t be so sad if we’re someplace else for a bit. I think Fred would want us to be a little happy, don’t you?” She played with the collar of his jacket. “I also got a little annoyed at Dad when he told me not to use magic. I mean, who cares? I bet there’s no one at the Ministry even bothering with Traces right now.” She giggled despite the tears on her face.

Harry stroked her hair as she put her head on his chest. “We’ll come back and spend the summer here, if your folks will let me stay, and—”

Ginny interrupted him with a laugh. “You must be joking. Mum’s already planning how to fatten you up.”

“That sounds like the summer of my dreams,” Harry grinned. “But that reminds me, there’s something else I wanted to tell you. Remember what you asked about Professor Flitwick, and how could he teach me next year?” Ginny nodded expectantly. “Well,” Harry said slowly, “I’ve decided to live in Hogsmeade when you go back to school.”

Ginny’s jaw dropped. “How can you do that?”

“That will be a surprise. You’ll find out all about it on your birthday when you’ll be old enough to know things like that.”

Ginny smacked him on his chest. “You’re mean! Why can’t you tell me now?” She tried to sound petulant but she couldn’t hide the light in her eyes.

“I knew you’d see it my way.” Harry grabbed her hand and kissed it before she could hit him again. “It’s going to be your birthday present.”

Now she was smiling. “You’ll be living in Hogsmeade . . . Oh, Harry, that’ll be brilliant! Seventh–years can leave the grounds on weekends whenever they want. How will I get any school work done?”

“I’ll help you,” Harry laughed. He put his arm around her and they walked back to the Burrow.

# # # #

Ron’s weather forecast held, and the day of the funeral was like the day before, clear with a few clouds and not too warm. Mourners started arriving early; there were going to be more funerals around the land, and Fred Weasley’s was the first of the day. Percy greeted the arrivals at the front gate as they Apparated or Portkeyed in, or were dropped off by Muggle taxis whose drivers left as quickly as they could turn around; the sight of people appearing out of nowhere seemed to upset them.

Yesterday’s work of preparation was no longer there to distract the family, and the Weasley household—including Aunt Muriel who arrived before sunrise—moved moodily around the Burrow, eating, dressing, preparing themselves. Molly and Ginny already had red and teary eyes.

Arthur did not look very steady and he kept staring at the coffin now resting on trestles near the back door. The rest of his sons stood in the parlor speaking quietly. When Harry walked in, George came over to him; he was somber but calm.

“Harry, I’d like you to be a pallbearer. We’re not using any magic, mostly.”

“Oh, sure.” Harry was surprised; Ginny had told him that her five brothers and Lee would carry the coffin, so he had not expected to be asked. “Is there room for seven?”

“Lee won’t be a pallbearer. I’ve asked him to help in other ways.”

Harry nodded, and thought about what Ginny had told him she had seen in George’s room yesterday. Harry was sure it would be memorable, whatever it was.

Percy finally came in and announced that the number of arrivals had reached the ninety–five percent threshold of expected attendees—he never explained why that number was a threshold—and that, given the tight schedule of funerals planned for the day, they should begin.

They all proceeded to the back door. Bill, Charlie, Percy, George, Ron, and Harry lifted the coffin and carried it out. Arthur, Molly, and Ginny followed; Molly walked unsteadily between them and they each held her arm. Behind came Fleur and Aunt Muriel. Even in black mourning robes Fleur was stunning; sadness seemed to make her even more beautiful. Her silver hair streamed down her back and the tears flowing down her face glistened like rivers or diamonds.

They walked slowly past the garden, and a hush fell over the gathering seated in chairs placed in rows to face the grave. Harry saw dozens of people he knew or recognized, some from the Ministry, some from Diagon Alley, and many from Hogwarts. All of the staff were there, even, to Harry’s utter astonishment, Argus Filch. Neville was sitting between his Gran and a Hufflepuff girl; a wizard and a witch who appeared to be her parents sat next to her. Luna and her father were there. Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet, and Katie Bell, already in tears, sat with Oliver Wood and other members of the Gryffindor Quidditch teams who had played with Fred. There were many students from other Houses, wearing their school robes.

He saw Madam Malkin, old Ollivander, even Mr. Borgin, who gazed at Harry with an impassive expression. Maybe, thought Harry, this purveyor of Dark objects believed that his business was going to suffer because so many of his best customers were either dead or in prison thanks to him.

Many people stared at Harry and whispered to their neighbors as he walked slowly down the center aisle with the coffin, so he stopped looking around and fixed his eyes on the back of Ron’s head. He also heard weeping from all sides, but he was mostly aware of the uninhibited sobs coming from Molly and Ginny behind him. His own eyes began to fill, and soon he felt his own tears running down his face.

They came to the grave where Kingsley Shacklebolt stood, looking more imposing and magnificent than Harry had ever seen him; he was wearing formal black robes and a high wizard’s hat. He walked to Molly and took her hands, then Arthur’s, and greeted Ginny, Fleur, and Aunt Muriel.

The pallbearers set the coffin down next to the open grave. Harry was unsure what to do next, so he followed Ron and moved behind the grave and stood with Fred’s brothers facing the seats. Hermione was in the front row; she had her hand to her face and was sobbing loudly. At the end of the row behind her sat Hagrid, also bawling. All the other dozen or so seats in that row were taken by a bereft bevy of young witches wearing the shop uniform of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes.

Kingsley helped Molly, Arthur, and Aunt Muriel sit in chairs at the side of the grave; Ginny and Fleur sat next to them. The Minister for Magic stepped in front of Fred’s coffin, and silence fell. He began speaking, standing still but gesturing occasionally with his hands and arms. His voice rang out, and all other sounds ceased.

“My friends! This is the first of too many funerals at which I will officiate in the next days. Each service stands for a tragedy, a disaster, a calamity. Each one of those tragedies is different because each one ended a different life, the life of a unique human being who lived in the center of a unique circle of loved ones. Each one is poignant in its own way.

“Fred Weasley fought for his family, for freedom, for life. You’ll notice that I do not say that he died for any of those things, because I don’t believe that. Fred did not die because he was noble, he died because he was murdered. He wanted to fight, oh yes, he wanted to fight, and that’s why he returned to Hogwarts when he learned there was going to be a fight. But don’t tell me that he sacrificed his life. I knew him too well to believe that. Fred fought to _live_ , to make life better, not to die.

“He was willing to risk injury or death, but he did not want to offer up his life as a sacrifice. Do not insult him or what he fought for by believing that, at the instant before he was murdered, he was happy to be giving up his life for a cause or even for his family. He fought for life, not for death. That is what makes his loss such a tragedy, a disaster, a calamity.

“He joined the battle against evil and malice because of what he believed in, because his mother and father, his brothers and his sister, and he himself, were a family that lived for love and idealism. They strived always for everything that is good and worthwhile in this world. Fred was fiercely loyal to his family, but not blindly loyal. Blind loyalty to a cause or to a family or to a person or to a country is false loyalty, and Fred knew that. Do you think that the foulest man or woman who attacked Hogwarts was anything but loyal to the cause of darkness? Their kind of loyalty led to acts of the most awful cruelty, including the deaths of children. No, if we give our loyalty to someone or something, we must be loyal like Fred was. We must first decide in our hearts what is good and beautiful, and then give our loyalty and every ounce of our strength to the good and the beauty that our hearts have shown us.

“If you want to honor a life that was full of love and joy and a spirit that was willing to fight for love and joy, then this is what you must do. You must look inside yourself and find one thing, one thing that you could have done differently that would have made it harder for evil to come to such power that it could take the life of Fred Weasley. Even those of us who did fight alongside him, who lost loved ones, who were injured or even maimed, we also must look inside ourselves to find that one thing that would have made a difference.

“The world is what we make it. To honor Fred we must make a world where love and goodness and beauty, the things that he fought for, will triumph. And then there will be no more funerals like this one.”

When Kingsley stopped, the only sounds were those of weeping. The Minister turned and nodded to Molly and Arthur, then to the brothers standing behind the grave. With his back to the seats he took out his wand, flicked it, and the coffin rose and descended into the grave. Harry watched it disappear, and he saw in his mind the body of Fred, inanimate, cold, lying in the dark. He felt Ron shaking next to him, and he saw Ginny and her parents holding each other. He wiped the tears from his face with his hand.

George stepped forward, holding a spade. He dug into the mound of earth beside the grave, lifted it into the air above the opening, and turned it over. The soil dropped very slowly and hit the coffin with a rattling sound. For a moment all was silent.

A low rumble, followed by a louder roar came from the direction of the house. People in the seats turned their heads; the family around the grave all looked up; Harry braced himself.

A huge flock of white birds rose over the Burrow; there were hundreds, maybe thousands. Each one trailed a colored streamer, like a small banner. As they climbed into the sky, the birds began to swirl and the banners to merge. The flock climbed and moved towards the grave, and as the thousands of birds hovered above, a gigantic image of Fred Weasley formed from the streamers. He was grinning and holding a firecracker.

First gasps, then shouts, then cheers rang out. Angelina, Alicia, and Katie were on their feet, jumping up and down and screaming. Hagrid had knocked over all the chairs around him as he also leaped up. The Wheezes witches were picking themselves off the ground and pointing at the image, shrieking at the tops of their lungs.

Harry looked at the family. Ginny and her mother both had their hands to their faces in identical gestures. Ginny was laughing; Molly’s mouth and eyes were open wide and she looked to be almost in shock. Arthur peered up with a small smile on his face. Fleur was pointing at the image and laughing like Ginny, but Aunt Muriel was glaring at it as though she wanted to shoot it down.

Ron nudged Harry. “Great sendoff. Promise you’ll do me like that.”

“Deal and ditto,” said Harry. “Just leave off the scar.”

Charlie and Bill were clapping George on the back. Only Percy—along with Aunt Muriel—disapproved, but when Kingsley turned to George with a grin, Percy’s look softened.

George himself gazed up in silence. He smiled briefly at his parents, dug another shovelful of earth and dropped it into the grave. When it hit the coffin the image and the streamers vanished with a thundering “whoosh!” and the flock of white birds soared off into the sky, turning and swirling like eddies in a river running over rocks.

After several moments of buzzing, the crowd fell silent. George stepped back, waved his wand, and the pile of earth fell into the grave, forming a perfect mound. Another rushing sound filled the air, and a gray stone slab came hurtling through the sky from the Burrow, soared high into the air, and plunged straight into the earth at the head of the grave. George pointed his wand and these words were chiseled into it:

Fred Weasley

1978 – 1998

He Is Ours

Again there was silence, punctuated by the sounds of weeping and noses being blown. Finally, George went to his parents and hugged them; he came around to the front of the grave, shook Kingsley’s hand, and started back down the aisle. Arthur and Molly stood—Molly unsteadily—and followed him. The brothers filed past the grave and Bill took Fleur’s hand, Charlie and Percy took Aunt Muriel’s arms—she glared at them—and Ron walked to Hermione and took her arm and they went after the others.

Ginny had waited in her seat; she and Harry were the only ones left at the grave, except for Kingsley who was waiting for them to leave. Harry felt scores of eyes on him as he walked to Ginny and took her hand. Her eyes brimmed, but they also had a strange joyful look. She gripped his right hand tightly with her right and took his arm with her other hand. They nodded to Kingsley and started back down the aisle.

Around them were unabashed stares and not so quiet whispers. Harry tried to ignore them and sped up slightly, wanting to get away from the attention. But Ginny held him back and slowed her pace. Harry peeked at her from the corner of his eye; her head was high and now her eyes were ablaze. She turned to him, and Harry saw, mingled with grief, that radiant joy. He put his hand on hers and their fingers laced tightly together.


	5. The Light

Harry and Ginny followed the family into the house where everyone had gathered in the parlor. Several strangers from the Ministry were also there, speaking with Lee Jordan. Aunt Muriel sat on the couch complaining about George’s “disrespectful prank.” When she saw Ginny walk in with Harry, she called loudly, “Ginevra! Come here!”

Ginny pretended not to hear. She hugged George and went to stand with her parents in front of the fireplace. Molly embraced her, sighed, and said to Arthur, “I knew he would do something, but I suppose it could have been worse. That firecracker could have exploded.”

“Father!” Percy called from a window looking into the front yard. “The Muggle police are coming up the lane.” He scowled at George. The contingent from the Ministry hurried out, and everyone watched through the window as they waved to the officers, whose vehicle had stopped in front of the gate.

“They’re from the Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee,” Lee said to Arthur. “I asked Minister Shacklebolt to bring them along, just in case. I told them what we were planning and they said they could pass it off as a weather anomaly, whatever that is.”

Percy issued a disapproving grunt and peered out the window again, but everyone else turned and took up their conversations.

Molly glanced out a window into the back yard where people were standing in knots or gathered around the food tables. “We should go out,” she said to Arthur.

“Ginevra!” Aunt Muriel snapped again; this time Ginny couldn’t pretend not to hear.

“Yes, Aunt Muriel?”

“When you marry that young man there—it’s Harry Potter, isn’t it? We meet at last, Mr. Potter—you will have my tiara. It is goblin-made, you know.”

Percy turned from the window and stared at Muriel; George and Charlie exchanged glances, then Charlie grinned at Harry, as did Fleur; Bill shook his head; Hermione poked Ron who was about to say something but instead cleared his throat; Lee noticed that the ceiling was very interesting; Molly pulled on Arthur’s elbow and he sighed. Harry did not dare look at anyone, so he let his eyes unfocus on the blank wall behind Muriel’s head.

Ginny smiled sweetly. “That’s very kind of you, Aunt Muriel. We have no plans to get married, though. I’m still a little young, and I have another year of school left, so—”

“I know all that,” Muriel said, dismissing the contradiction. “But it’s quite obvious that you two will marry, whether sooner or later. And do you understand my meaning? You shall _have_ my tiara and you will pass it on to your own daughter when the time comes.”

“Let’s go outside,” said Arthur. He took both Molly and Ginny’s arms and led them out. Bill put his hand on Harry’s back, waking him from his fascination with the wall, and steered him towards the door; Fleur trotted after them. “Au revoir,” she trilled to Aunt Muriel. “See you at ze wedding.” Everyone else quickly left. Only Percy stayed behind; the police car had driven off, and he sat down next to Muriel.

“I’ve never planned a wedding,” he said. “Have you?”

Aunt Muriel looked at him in disbelief. “I wish to join the party.”

“No, wait. I have some ideas . . .”

The family moved out among the guests. Some had already departed, and others had wandered back to the chairs or to the grave, carrying their plates of food and goblets of drink. Harry, still a little befuddled, didn’t know what to do; he didn’t really want to mingle with celebrity hounds, and he wasn’t sure what to say to Ginny as a follow-up to her great aunt’s pronouncement. He sought out his friends from school; Neville introduced him to Keesha Baker, and everyone pulled chairs around and talked about Kingsley Shacklebolt’s eulogy.

Ron and Hermione joined them, and Ron sat next to Harry. “Sorry about the old bat,” he said. “She says all kinds of barmy things.” Harry was afraid of protesting too much or too little, so he took refuge in silence.

Parvati Patil described the repairs to the roof of Gryffindor Tower, and how house-elves had been climbing on the outside and startling everyone inside. Harry happened to look towards the house and saw Ginny staggering inside under a load of dirty dishes. He got up, intent on helping her; if she could not do magic herself, at least he could do it for her. But as he made his way through the crowd, ignoring all the curious looks, he had another idea.

He looked for Bill and saw him and Fleur talking to another witch, attracting the surreptitious glances of all the wizards in Fleur’s vicinity. She saw Harry approaching.

“‘Arry, Ginny says zat you will be coming to stay wiz us. I am so ‘appy. We can remember Fred wiz a bottle of ze best Bordeaux gold can buy.”

Harry grinned at her, and put his hand on Bill’s arm. ”Sorry, can I ask you something?”

Bill stepped away from the witch, who stared at Harry. “What’s up?”

Harry explained his idea. Bill thought for a moment and nodded. “Sure, I don’t see why not. It’s only for today, right? Go ahead.”

Harry went around to the front of the house and out the gate. He walked down the lane until he was out of sight of the house and stopped. “Kreacher,” he called, “I need you.”

The house-elf appeared with a loud crack! and bowed low to Harry, his locket on its chain dangling to the ground. “Master Harry Potter, it is so good to see you well. How may Kreacher be of service?”

“Kreacher, I need a big favor.” He explained what he wanted, and Kreacher bowed again.

“It will be an honor to help the noble Weasley family in their hour of need. Kreacher lives to serve.”

Harry led the elf into the kitchen where Ginny and Charlie were piling fruit into a large bowl, but they stopped when they saw Kreacher. “Merlin’s beard!” cried Charlie. “Who brought a house-elf in here?” He looked at Harry. “What’s he doing here?” Ginny frowned.

“This is Kreacher,” Harry said. “I asked him to help out. He’ll be happy to, won’t you?” He looked down at the elf.

Kreacher’s bat-ears quivered and he bowed to both Charlie and Ginny. “Kreacher has heard many tales about the brave and honorable House of Weasley. Kreacher considers it a great honor to serve them, as he does Harry Potter and also the House of Black, rest in peace.”

Charlie and Ginny looked at each other. “We’ve never had a house-elf,” Charlie said. “We don’t really want one.”

“But I asked Bill,” Harry said. “It’s just for the day. I saw Ginny carrying a load of dishes, and I thought she could use some help.”

“Harry, it’s okay,” Ginny said before Charlie, clearly dubious, could answer. “Kreacher, you _will_ be a big help. We really appreciate it.”

“Ginny Weasley is a beautiful and perceptive witch,” Kreacher croaked. “Yes, Harry Potter has done the correct thing.”

Ginny took Harry’s hand and pushed Charlie out of the kitchen in front of them. They avoided the parlor where Percy was still holding forth with Aunt Muriel about the best source of wedding invitations, and went out back. She pulled Harry to the garden and turned to him. “That was nice, Harry, and I know you were trying to help, but I really don’t need it.”

Harry felt deflated. “But I saw you with those dishes. I wanted to do something.”

“Remember I asked you not to smother me? You need to ask before you do something like that.” She saw his crestfallen look. “It was really sweet, Harry. Just ask me first.” She took his hands and glanced around; several people were watching. “I shouldn’t kiss you now,” she whispered, “but I really want to.”

Harry perked up. “I just thought it would help.”

“It will. But the other thing is that we never wanted to own a house-elf. Mum doesn’t believe in using them the way most people do. She’s a little like Hermione.” Ginny giggled. They stood holding hands. “What is it?” Ginny asked when she saw a hesitant look on Harry’s face.

“I wanted to ask you something. When we were walking away from the grave you kind of held me back. You had a weird look on your face. Happy. It was strange.”

Ginny smiled. “I remember. One minute I was so sad, and the next minute we were walking together in front of all those people and I had my arm in yours, and it felt so good.”

Harry couldn’t help himself; he kissed her. She pulled away, startled, and glanced around; more people were staring. “Harry! What was that for?”

“You said the same thing once before, remember?” He laughed. “In the hammock.”

Ginny blushed. “Oh. Yes, I remember.”

“I’m sorry I just kissed you. I hope I don’t need permission to do that.” He didn’t really look sorry, and Ginny laughed.

“Never.” She kissed him quickly, and they both turned as Ron and Hermione approached.

“Don’t let us interrupt anything,” Ron said, “but we’re cutting out soon.”

“How come?” Harry asked. “I thought you wouldn’t be leaving until this evening.”

“Hermione’s parents are coming back today, and we want to meet them at the Muggle portair. Then we figured we might as well just pop back down to the flat. We’ll see you tomorrow at the Tonks’s.”

“Right,” Harry nodded. “We’re going to Shell Cottage for a couple of weeks, so I guess we’ll be going to the other funerals from there.”

Ron looked down and scuffed the ground with his shoe. “Uh, there’s another room in the flat, so if you guys feel like it . . . I mean, we could have a good time in town together. What d’you think?”

“Sure,” Harry mumbled, and stared at Ron’s scuff mark. “That would be great. Maybe we’ll do that.” Ginny and Hermione grinned at each other.

Ron and Hermione said goodbye, but as they were walking away Kreacher came trotting around the house carrying, somehow, three large serving dishes filled with dessert cakes, fruit, and whipped cream; a case of butterbeer; and two full pitchers of pumpkin juice from which not a drop was spilling.

Hermione’s mouth fell open. “What on earth! Kreacher! What are you doing here?”

The house-elf nodded to her and said, “Good day to you, Miss Hermione Granger,” without breaking stride and continued on into the back yard.

Hermione watched him go and turned to Harry. “Where did he come from?”

“I thought he could help out. Bill said it was okay.”

“It’s a great idea!” Ron exclaimed. “Now no one in the family has to clean up. I’ll even bet he knows how to get rid of two hundred eighty-five useless umbrellas.”

Hermione laughed. “I think it’s a good idea too. Your mum will have one less thing to worry about.” With that, she and Ron hurried off to say goodbye to the others.

Harry glanced at Ginny, who looked at him wryly. “I guess it is a good idea. Thanks.”

“Well, it’s not me, it’s Kreacher. Thank him.”

“I will. We all will.”

More people were leaving, and Harry and Ginny went to say goodbye to the Hogwarts students, who were Portkeying back to school together. They all agreed to have a Dumbledore’s Army reunion later in the summer. “I can’t wait,” said Luna holding up her message Galleon. “I’ll have Dad print up the owls, and we’ll make it a memorial service for Colin too.” She suddenly started crying, and both Neville and Dean put hands on her shoulders.

“She’s been kind of weepy,” Dean said to Harry, “but it doesn’t last long.”

Luna wiped her face and looked at him, puzzled. “Why should it? I’ll be able to cry again any time I want.”

“That’s true,” Dean agreed. “Everything you say is true, Luna.” She stopped crying and beamed at him.

Harry told Ginny that he had to find Professor Flitwick before he left, and went looking for him. The Professor was usually hard to locate, being so short, so Harry listened for his squeaky voice and looked for anyone peering at the ground. But he found him sitting on a stool talking to a Healer from St. Mungo’s who introduced herself as Hestia Derwent. She thanked Harry for helping at the funeral service, and left him with Professor Flitwick.

“Now, Harry,” Flitwick said, “if I understand what you want, I’ll be tutoring you in Charms on an advanced level.”

“That’s what I’d like. Can you do it?”

“The question is, can _we_ do it. I can’t very well leave the school, even on most weekends.”

“Well . . .” Harry looked around; no one he knew was nearby. “I’m planning to live in Hogsmeade, at least for the school year, so I could come up to the castle pretty much any time.”

“You’ll be letting a house or a flat?”

“No.” Harry glanced around again and lowered his voice. “I bought the Hogs Head Inn, and I’m going to fix it up. But please don’t tell anyone.”

The Professor looked surprised. “Aberforth sold the Inn? Why? Well, I don’t’ mean to pry. I’m sure he had his reasons.”

“He just wanted to get away from things. I think he’s going abroad for a while. Actually, he sold it back to some goblins who used to own it, and then I bought it from them.”

“From goblins . . .” Flitwick gave Harry a thoughtful look. “Have to be careful when you’re dealing with goblins, but I heard you have some experience.”

“I do, but it didn’t help very much. I’m sorry Professor, but I’d rather not talk about it now. Can we start the lessons around the middle of September? I should have the inn up and running by then.”

“That’ll be fine, Harry. And I’m looking forward to it.”

They shook hands and Harry went through the thinning crowd looking for Ginny; he found her sitting with her family in a circle of chairs near the garden. They were talking quietly, and also watching Kreacher clear off the serving tables.

“I understand that is your house-elf,” Aunt Muriel said to Harry as he sat next to Ginny.

He wasn’t sure if she was angry or not, her demeanor was always so stern. “Yes, ma’am. He was my godfather’s family’s elf, and I inherited him.”

“Yes, the Black family. A very mixed bag, politically. I’m sorry about your godfather.” Harry nodded.

Aunt Muriel went on. “And you brought him here to help with the catering and cleaning. That is a very thoughtful gesture.” She turned to Ginny. “Ginevra, this one is definitely a keeper.” She pointed at Harry.

“Actually, Aunt Muriel, he’s a Seeker,” Ginny said before she could stop herself.

When everyone had stopped laughing, even Molly and Aunt Muriel were smiling. Only poor Harry didn’t know what to do with himself; he sat befuddled once again and wishing he was somewhere else. Ginny took his hand, and Charlie, who was sitting on his other side, put his arm around his shoulder. “Welcome to the family, Harry,” he said sympathetically.

By noon all the guests were gone. The house and the grounds seemed very quiet. George and Lee went to sit by the grave; Bill and Fleur had gone up to their room; Percy was organizing the condolence cards that people had left; Charlie sat by himself near the garden looking towards the grave; Aunt Muriel was napping in the parlor; and Ginny and Harry were in the kitchen with her parents. Occasionally they heard sounds from around the house, and Molly glanced at the stairs.

“What is he doing?” she asked. “I thought he would leave when everything was cleaned up.”

“I think he’s straightening up the house, dear,” Arthur said. They heard furniture scraping the floor above, and Molly looked at the ceiling.

“He cleaned off the pudding!” she exclaimed. “There was a big stain after we got it down, but it’s gone.” They all stared at the ceiling, and at that moment Bill came down the stairs and stopped as he saw them looking up. “What is it?” He also peered up.

“Kreacher is sanitizing the house,” said Ginny.

Bill chuckled and sat at the table. “Well, Dad, what did you think of Kingsley’s speech? It was pretty political for a eulogy.”

“That it was, and deliberately so,” Arthur said. “He asked me before we left Hogwarts if I minded. He’s saying more or less the same thing at all the funerals.”

“What’s he up to? It was a lot different from what Rufus Scrimgeour would have said, let alone Fudge.”

Harry spoke before Arthur could respond. “I’ll tell you something. Everyone from school was talking about it, and everyone thought it was brilliant.”

Arthur looked pleased. “That’s also Kingsley’s idea, or maybe I should say his hope. He wants to change things, but it will take a long time. It’s going to be up to you, Harry, and your friends, to see it finished.”

“That’s great,” said Harry, “but all I want to do right now is recover from sleeping in a tent for a year.”

“You’re staying here,” Molly declared as though it had been decided long ago. “You’ll have Ron’s room all to yourself. The house will be too empty.” She stared at the wall, lost in her thoughts; Arthur took her hand, but she stood up. “It’s all right, Arthur. This day has been too long. Let me be alone for a while.” She went into the parlor but almost immediately came out and went upstairs.

“I wanted to leave for the Cottage right after Remus and Tonks’s funeral,” Bill said to his father. “Are you sure Mum is okay with it?”

“She will be, She really wants all of you to get away from this for a while, and she needs some quiet time for herself. She has other things on her mind besides Fred,” he added grimly.

Bill nodded and Harry looked at Ginny; in his mind he saw a green flame pass within an inch of her head, and he saw her mother’s face with a look of murderous fury on it. Ginny stared at her father, and stood too. Before Harry could say or do anything, she was gone up the stairs. Harry rose half-way from his seat.

“Leave her be for a bit,” Bill said, holding up his hand. “She’ll be okay. She’s the strongest one in the family, you know. She had to be to survive us.”

The rest of the day passed very slowly. Harry managed to avoid Aunt Muriel and any more comments about him and Ginny by spending most of his time in Ron’s room getting ready to leave for Shell Cottage. When he wandered downstairs again, Muriel was gone, escorted home by Charlie and Percy.

Arthur, Molly, and Ginny were at the grave and Harry went to join them; they were sitting on a blanket between the grave and the oak tree. Ginny had picked a bouquet of wild flowers that lay in front of the headstone. Harry sat next to her and they stayed there until the sun began to set beyond the river.

They walked back to the house in the dusk and found Kreacher standing in the kitchen; Bill and Fleur were sitting at the table. Kreacher bowed to Harry and Molly.

“Kreacher’s work here is done,” he croaked. “He must return to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to help finish what was begun three days ago.”

“Thanks, Kreacher,” said Harry and Ginny at the same time; Ginny giggled. The elf bowed to her and Disapparated.

“That was very considerate of him to help out,” said Molly. “Thank you for thinking of him, Harry.”

Bill cleared his throat. “Mum, you’ll want to take a look around the house. He cleaned everything. Every room is spotless, he cleaned all the dirty clothes and put them away, changed all the linen, cleaned all the windows, straightened up everything in the kitchen—”

Molly jumped up and began opening cabinets. “I didn’t want anything in here touched!” she said angrily. “Someone should have told him . . . ” She stared into a cabinet filled with stacks of dishes, then looked back at Harry. “I’m sorry, Harry. It’s all in perfect order. Amazing. Well, time to fix dinner.”

Ginny leaned towards Harry. “That was so special,” she whispered in his ear.

After dinner Ginny went to pack for Shell Cottage, and Harry went up to the attic. He was tired, and the stairs seemed steeper and longer, as though the melancholy effects of the day had sapped his strength. When he opened the door, though, he wondered for an instant if he was in the right place. Kreacher had cleaned and organized the room to the point of being unrecognizable. There were no clothes scattered on the floor or the beds, all the Quidditch magazines were stacked neatly on the dresser, and all of Ron’s textbooks were put away in his rickety board-and-brick bookcase, arranged by subject and year. The floor was swept and scrubbed, the beds were made, and the windows sparkled in the dim light of Harry’s wand; gone were the streaky dust and cobwebs.

He went to the window at the end of the room and peered out into the darkness. When he turned back he bumped his head against a chain that hung from a hook in the ceiling. He grabbed the chain to stop it from swinging, and suddenly remembered that he used to hang Hedwig’s cage from it whenever he stayed at the Burrow.

He went back to his cot and fell onto it, covering his eyes with his arm, and saw a still, small, white form in the falling side-car of Hagrid’s motorcycle as it exploded into nothingness. He saw Fred and Dobby and Mad-Eye and Colin and Remus and Tonks, and all the others in a blur. He himself had once been dead like them—that sounded almost funny, but here he was, breathing, staring up at Ron’s orange walls. It could have been _him_ in the coffin this morning, aware of nothing, not even the blackness encasing him, just not existing. He suddenly felt utterly spent, yet he had done nothing today; he had sat and eaten and wandered around, talking about dead people.

He _was_ a wanderer, lost, rootless. He looked at Ron’s posters, Ron’s books, Ron’s furniture. What did Harry have that was his own? A run-down derelict of a house in a London slum? A filthy, rat-infested hangout for drunks and petty criminals in Hogsmeade? What good were they? He had no home, no room of his own with garish walls and posters of his boyhood heroes. He had no boyhood heroes; he wasn’t even sure if he had had a boyhood. Maybe he should find the Dursleys, to tell them that their lives were no longer in danger and they could go back to their home and forget about their seventeen-year nightmare, forget that Harry ever existed.

He had just spent months and months as a fugitive, unable to stay in the same place for two nights in a row. When he had found a place with friends where he could sleep in the same room for more than one night—even if it was on a couch—he _still_ would have been murdered on the spot if his enemy had found him. He felt like a loose stone inside a tin can rolling downhill, tossed and banged against the sides, never able to rest, never knowing when he would hit bottom.

What should he do? Where could he go? He couldn’t pretend, like the Dursleys, that seventeen years had not happened. Too many people were dead. There were going to be more coffins, all cold and dark inside. He didn’t know if he could face more funerals, more weeping, more grief.

He closed his eyes, exhausted, but afraid to sleep, afraid that the morning would come and those seventeen years would still be there.

Light footsteps tread on the landing outside and there was a soft knock on the door. “Harry? Are you still up?” Ginny peeked in. “Let’s go out.”

They walked to the tall oak out back. The moon had not yet risen, and Harry lit his wand as they stood looking at the grave. After a few minutes Ginny turned and put her arms around him. “Why are you trembling?” she whispered.

Harry doused his wand and slid it in his belt behind his back. When they kissed, he could taste salty tears mingled with the moisture of her lips. Ginny leaned her head back and looked up at him. “I’m not crying for Fred. I’m crying because I’m so crazy for you.”

Harry pulled her back to him almost violently and kissed her, feeling her heart beating against his, her arms squeezing his back, her body pressed to his.

By the time they left the grave the half-moon was over the treetops, but the light that showed Harry the way was coming from the girl walking beside him.


	6. By the Sea

The weather turned, and the next morning was cool and cloudy, promising rain. The Weasleys and Harry Portkeyed to the Tonks’s house and joined Ron and Hermione who had arrived earlier. The graves and the funeral were in a large field behind the house, and almost as many people were there as at Fred’s service.

Kingsley’s eulogy made the same points: look into your heart to find what is right, and act on it. He also spoke of accepting differences as something that could enrich and strengthen the wizarding world, not divide it. Ginny nudged Harry and pointed to a few people sitting together off to one side; they had the shabby, hang-dog look that Remus often wore.

“Werewolves,” Harry whispered.

When the ceremony was over Andromeda Tonks intercepted Harry as he was leaving his seat. She was holding her sleeping grandson swaddled in blankets. Harry looked at Andromeda, unsure what to say or do.

“Your godson,” she smiled. “I thought you might like to hold him.”

Harry looked in panic at Ginny. “Here,” she said, “you take him like this.” She took the bundle from Andromeda and handed it to Harry. “Don’t drop him.”

“I think I figured out that part.”

Harry looked down at Teddy Lupin. The baby sighed and rubbed his mouth with his tiny fist. Suddenly an old emptiness seized Harry. This baby was an orphan, and even younger than Harry had been when he became one. What would this one’s life be like? Surely not as brutal as Harry’s. He looked at Andromeda and blinked away tears.

She smiled again. “He’ll be fine, Harry. Ted had lots of relatives. The little one will have a family around him, maybe not a perfect family, but he’ll be loved.”

Harry nodded. “I—I’ll try to see him too, whenever I can.”

“It’s all right. Don’t worry about it. You have plenty of things going on yourself.” She smiled at Ginny and took the baby back. “Here we go. So sweet.” She walked away, gently rocking the bundle in her arms.

Ginny took Harry’s hand and they joined Ron and Hermione who were standing nearby, watching. Ron put his hand on Harry’s shoulder as Harry wiped his face on his sleeve. “I’m fine,” he mumbled. “Let’s get something to eat.”

They stood holding platters of tasty cooked vegetables and cold cuts and goblets of pumpkin juice. “Things are already picking up in Diagon Alley,” Ron reported. “Lee is trying to get George to come back to the shop, but meanwhile he’s going to run it with the witches, the ones who were at the funeral. They all went back to the shop yesterday afternoon. I think each one of them thought Fred was in love with her.” He looked over at the two fresh graves in the middle of the field but turned quickly away, as though he was hiding something from the others.

“Anyway,” he continued after a few moments, “the flat’s really nice. When can you come up?”

Harry looked at Ginny. “I guess after we get back to the Burrow, in a couple of weeks.”

“If Mum and Dad let me,” Ginny grumbled. “If George is there, maybe it’ll be okay, but I don’t know if you’re their model of a chaperone,” she said to Ron.

“Now why would that be?” Ron chuckled. “But you can tell them I never touched Hermione once while we were cooped up in that tent.” Hermione scowled at him, but also blushed.

“ _You_ can tell them that one, Ron,” Ginny snorted.

They spent the rest of the morning talking with Remus’s old students who had come from school, and with Kingsley Shacklebolt and his new Head Auror, Saliyah Ushujaa. She was a native of east Africa, and also a dancer—very accomplished, according to Kingsley—who performed in a wizard African dance company. She invited them all to a performance scheduled for the end of summer in London. “It will be a celebration of the lives of all those who died,” she said. “African dance is very emotional, as all dance is. I think you will enjoy it.” They agreed to come.

Kingsley asked Harry what his plans were. “We’d love to have you join one of our intern programs. We’ll be reorganizing all of them and putting some good people in charge. What do you say?”

“It sounds like you’ve been busy,” Harry grinned. “I also wanted to tell you that a lot of my friends thought your speech yesterday was brilliant. I did too.”

Kingsley returned Harry’s grin. “You didn’t answer my question, but being the consummate politician that I am, I won’t press you. But the offer is there if you change your mind.”

Hermione and Ron cast looks at each other as Kingsley and Saliyah walked away, and Ginny looked at them suspiciously and poked Ron in his ribs. “What’s going on? You know something that I don’t.”

Harry came to Ron’s rescue. “I told you it would be your birthday present. You already know I’ll be living in Hogsmeade. Ron and Hermione made an Unbreakable Vow not to spill the beans,” he grinned.

Ginny scowled for a brief instant, but sidled up to Harry, batting her eyes at him. “So you think you can resist me while we’re alone in a little cottage by the sea for two weeks? I’ll bet you ten Galleons that you can’t keep it from me.”

“You’re probably right. I’ll have to keep Bill or Fleur nearby all the time to protect myself.”

“Well, then I’d rather not try to squeeze it out of you. Three’s a crowd.”

Ron had stopped paying attention and was watching people. “Look,” he indicated with a nod, “Shacklebolt’s talking to those werewolves. I wonder what they think about all this. Remus was always complaining about their attitude.”

“They’re like the rest of us,” said Hermione, “wondering what’s coming next, what Kingsley is going to do. It all happened so quickly, if you think about it. One day Volde- I mean Riddle, has a complete grip on power, and the next day he’s dead and someone from the Order of the Phoenix, for goodness sake, is Minister. It takes some getting used to, and it’s only been four days. Everyone is wondering about you too, Harry. Did you notice? They’re all watching you.”

Harry made a face. “Yeah, but I’m so used to it, I really don’t think about it. What am I supposed to do, anyway? Lots of people fought him.”

“But not like you, mate,” Ron said. “You killed him. That makes you different.”

“Let’s not talk about it, okay? It doesn’t bother me when people look at me.”

“They’re also looking at Ginny,” Hermione said.

Ginny tossed her head. “So let them. Maybe they’ll leave Harry alone.” Harry gave her an appreciative smile as Charlie walked up; he had come from a conversation with a wizard in Ministry robes.

“That’s Gawain Robards,” he told them. “He’s acting Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Do any of you know him?” They all shook their heads. “He just told me some bad but not surprising news. They found eight bodies in Malfoy Manor, all dead by a Killing Curse except—”he looked at Harry “—Peter Pettigrew. He was strangled, apparently by his own hand, or what used to be his hand.”

Ron whistled. “Eight? Who were they?”

“He wouldn’t tell me. But he thinks there are more than eight. They also found the belongings of Charity Burbage, the teacher the _Prophet_ said had resigned from Hogwarts.”

Hermione turned pale. “Oh, no! She disappeared, but no one knew . . . Damn him!” She had tears in her eyes as well as anger, and her fists were balled. “She was just a nice person. Why?”

Ron put his arm around her. “She taught Muggle Studies and she wrote an article,” he told Charlie. “I guess it figures that Riddle would go after her.”

“They’ll probably find bodies all over the country,” Charlie said, shaking his head. “Sorry to bring you more bad news.” He left them all in a somber mood.

“That won’t be too good for Malfoy,” Ron said. “But who cares? We saved Draco’s ass twice in the castle and I don’t remember being thanked for it.”

“His mum saved mine,” Harry murmured, looking at the ground.

Ron grunted, but Hermione nodded. “It’s got to stop somewhere, Ron. At the end, Lucius cared more for his family than for Riddle.”

“Okay, okay,” Ron said. “I’ll let him live this time, but after this, no more mister nice guy.” They all laughed and looked up at the sky as it began to rain.

The Weasleys returned to the Burrow in the early afternoon, and soon afterwards Harry and Ginny Disapparated to Shell Cottage with Bill and Fleur. They came out on top of the cliff, and Ginny exclaimed in delight when she saw the pink and cream-colored shells embedded in the walls. It was not raining there, but the skies were spitting and a damp breeze was blowing in from the sea. They hurried inside with their bags and Fleur threw back the curtains and opened some of the landward windows. “It gets so stuffy. I suppose it will be very cozy in ze winter, but I like a breeze to come in now. Come, I will show you your rooms.”

Harry had the room that Ollivander and Griphook had stayed in, and Ginny the room that Hermione and Luna had shared. Ginny and Fleur took her bags inside and Harry went downstairs, where Bill had started a fire.

“I think we’ll eat lunch soon. This time you’ll experience some really good French cooking,” he grinned. “I’ve been totally spoiled. She even makes some of my mum’s food seem ordinary.”

Harry went to the front window and looked out at the water. He had spent a lot of time sitting and looking out at the sea when he stayed here before their foray into Gringotts. _Was that only a week ago?_ _What a difference a few days make,_ he thought, as he turned and watched Ginny come down the stairs.

“Let’s go outside,” she said, and took Harry’s hand. “Fleur said she’ll call us when lunch is ready.”

It was raining lightly and they took cloaks from hooks near the door. They walked around back and stood at the foot of Dobby’s grave and Ginny read the epitaph.

“Oh, Harry, you didn’t tell me you had written that. It’s beautiful.” She went to it and ran her hand over the words. “Poor Dobby, I never really knew him. And he was killed at his old master’s house.”

Harry stared at the grave. “I’m glad Bellatrix Lestrange is dead,” he said quietly. “I don’t think I could have come back and stood here if she was still alive.” Ginny put her arm through his and leaned her head on his shoulder.

A window open and Fleur called to them, “Lunchtime! Come inside!” They went back and found Bill seated at the kitchen table. A steaming meat pie was ready at each place, with a basket of hot rolls and a bowl of greens in the center of the table.

“I am so sorry, but I have not got ze candles out yet,” Fleur said as she sat. “We will ‘ave zem at dinnertime. It will be very romantic.” She smiled at Ginny and handed Bill a bottle. “Do ze honors, darling.”

Bill uncorked the wine with a flick of his wand, poured the ruby red liquid into their goblets, and raised his own. “To our family, to our best friends—” he nodded to Harry “—and to our brother and our friends who are gone.” They clinked their goblets in silence.

Harry’s experience with wine was limited to the toast that Bill had offered to Remus Lupin just a few weeks ago upon the birth of Teddy. He took a sip; it tasted very smooth and fruity. He took another sip and glanced at Ginny as she held up her empty goblet for Bill to refill.

“Take it easy, Sis,” Bill laughed. “It’ll put you right out unless you’re used to it.” He poured her a half-goblet.

Harry poked his fork through the crust of his meat pie and a delicious aroma wafted up. He took a fork-full. “Mmm! Fabulous,” he said to Fleur.

She waved her fork in the air. “Oh, it is not’ing. I just t’rew zem in ze oven for a few minutes. Zey are not’ing special. Ginny, would you like me to show you ‘ow to make zem?”

Ginny looked at the beatific expression on Harry’s face as he nodded enthusiastically. Ginny laughed. “Sure. My mum makes them sometimes, but this is delicious.”

It started to rain harder during lunch but let up later in the afternoon and Harry and Ginny took a walk along the cliff. They looked out over the sea and listened to the waves crashing on the rocks below. About a quarter mile from the cottage they found a path through a cleft leading down to the water and a beach about twenty yards wide that continued into the distance. The wind was blustery with a heavy overcast.

They took their shoes off and walked in the cool sand with their cloaks and Ginny’s hair billowing behind them. Waves broke a few yards out, and Ginny ran into the wash but came shrieking right back out. “It’s freezing!” she cried. Harry laughed, and bent down and lifted her right foot and started rubbing it; she grabbed his shoulder to keep from toppling over. “Use a warming charm. It’ll work faster.”

Harry grinned up at her. “This is more fun.” He kissed her foot, then took the left and rubbed it. He put it down, rose, and took her in his arms and they stood together in a long, long, deep kiss.

Harry put his hands inside her cloak and moved them down her back and lower. Ginny took them, though, and held them in both of hers between herself and Harry. She looked down and shook her head.

“Harry, no, not here. I don’t feel right about it, not while we’re staying in their home.” She put her forehead against his collar bone and they were silent.

“It’s okay,” Harry said after a moment. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Ginny still looked down at the sand and brushed her toes against his instep. “Don’t be sorry.” She finally looked at him. “That night in the hammock wasn’t a mistake, and it wasn’t something I wanted to do only because I just spent a year and a day waiting for you. It was a whole lot more than that.”

“It was for me too. You know that, don’t you?” She nodded. “So when I do something like I just did, when I think about you that way . . . I mean . . .” He peered at their feet and put his toes on top of hers. He said, without looking up, “Ginny, there’s something I didn’t tell you. It’s sort of the same as this, and it’s a little embarrassing.”

“It’s fine, love, you can tell me anything and I won’t laugh.” Harry looked at her, startled; Ginny had never used that word with him. He tried to think of a response, but came up blank. She grinned. “What didn’t you tell me?”

He took a deep breath. “When we were out there in that tent in the middle of winter, sometimes I would take out my map and look for you. It was usually at night, so I knew you would be in your room. There would be a little tag next to your bed with your name on it. I know it sounds stupid, but it helped keep me going. A lot.”

“Why is that embarrassing?”

“That’s not it. There’s more.”

Ginny giggled, and turned a little pink. “I wasn’t in the bathroom, was I?”

“No, no! Of course not. I’m sorry, I probably shouldn’t have told you.”

Ginny kissed him. “Don’t tell me if you don’t want to, but I’m glad you had that map and it makes me feel good that you were watching me.”

“Well, I would also imagine myself in that bed with you,” Harry said in one rush of breath.

Ginny pulled him closer. “Ooh, now I _do_ like that. Maybe next year when you’re in Hogsmeade you can do it again, but let me know before.” She laughed wickedly.

‘You are a shameless witch,” Harry also laughed. “And you drive me crazy.”

It was starting to grow dark and the clouds were lowering, so they walked back to the cottage. They were going into the wind and they put their heads down and leaned into it. They climbed the path up the cliff and saw the lights of Shell Cottage in the dusk and hurried towards them.

Dinner rivaled any meal they had ever had at Hogwarts. Course followed delicious course: soup, fresh bread, salad, poultry, fish, pasta, dessert. Harry drank a little more wine this time and felt better and better with each course and each goblet. Ginny also had more than one goblet of wine, but Harry noticed that her face wasn’t flushed, as his felt.

The small table was set with white linen and a beautiful silver candelabra; the candles burned with a silvery, shimmering glow. “It belonged to my gran’mama,” Fleur said as they ate dessert: triple chocolate cheese cake. “She was veela, you know. Zat is why I am so beautiful, it all comes from ‘er. And zis candelabra is magical, veela magic. It inspires love.”

“I heard that veelas like to bewitch men into loving them, and then they leave them heartbroken,” Harry said; he was feeling very talkative.

Fleur’s eyes flashed. “Oh, zat is nonsense! Men are saying zat because zey fall in love wiz us but we are not always falling in love wiz zem. So zey blame veelas for zere own foolishness.”

Harry looked at Ginny.

Her eyebrows arched. “What are you looking at me for? You were the one who kissed me after the Quidditch match, not the other way around.”

Harry giggled. “I thought you kissed me back.” He leaned over and kissed her. “Yes, you did kiss me back, I remember it very clearly.” He grinned at everyone.

“Hah! You see, ze candelabra, it is working,” Fleur proclaimed. “Or maybe it is ze wine. Who knows?” She shrugged.

After dinner Bill stoked the fire and it became very warm and cozy in the small cottage. Harry dozed in a love seat, leaning on Ginny’s shoulder and snoring quietly. When Bill and Fleur got up from the couch and went upstairs, Ginny nudged Harry and whispered into his ear, “Wake up, love, we’re alone.”

He opened his eyes. “Did you just call me that again?”

Ginny put her arms around him. “Yes, and it won’t be the last unless you object.”

“No objections from this quarter.” Harry stood, stretched, and pulled Ginny up. He kissed her softly and caressed her hair. “‘Cause I feel the same way.” When they climbed the stairs, Ginny paused at her door, blew him a kiss, and went into her room.

Next morning at breakfast both Ginny and Harry looked tired. “Did you sleep okay?” Bill asked Harry. “You look a little peaky.”

“New bed, I guess. I’ll get used to it.” He glanced at Ginny who was yawning. “Are you okay?” he asked her.

“I couldn’t fall asleep for a while. I was thinking about Fred, and . . . things. What about you?”

Harry looked quickly at Bill; he was immersed in the _Daily Prophet_ and Fleur was busy at the water basin. “I was thinking about things too,” he said in a low voice.

Bill left for work after breakfast. He had not been at Gringotts for quite a while and was uncertain about what he would find there and what kind of reception he would get.

“They’ll know it was my brother who helped you break into the vaults,” he told Harry as he was about to leave. “They won’t be too happy about it.” Harry felt a pang of guilt; he didn’t want to be responsible for Bill losing his job.

“Will they let you back?” he asked. “Maybe you can tell them that the Hufflepuff goblet was stolen, and we were trying to get it back for Hogwarts.”

Bill laughed mirthlessly. “They won’t care about the goblet. If they ever find out what it was, they’ll probably be glad someone got it out of their bank. No, what’s going to upset them is that you broke in so easily.”

“It wasn’t so easy. We almost got killed, more than once.”

“And they won’t care about that, either. To them, it was easy because you succeeded. But don’t worry, Harry. I won’t lose my job because they know how close I am to Kingsley. When you killed Riddle, the world went topsy-turvy for goblins as well as everyone else. They won’t want to antagonize me, at least not until they know which way the wind is blowing.”

Harry shook his head. “Too much politics for me. I’ll walk on the beach and sit by the fire until it all goes away.”

Bill laughed. “That should be everyone’s philosophy. You do that, Harry, you and Ginny. That’s why we invited you here.” He kissed Fleur goodbye, stepped outside, and Disapparated.

Ginny spent the morning in the kitchen with Fleur, cooking up the menu for the rest of the day. Harry looked in on them once, but left after being ignored for five minutes while Fleur was teaching Ginny the French names of the ingredients for a cheese and bacon soufflé. He had already finished the copy of the _Prophet_ that Bill had left, so he went up to his room and started reading _Theory of Advanced Spells_ which Bill had lent him.

He was dozing when Ginny came to get him for lunch. She served the soufflé, which was delicious, and afterwards they went out for a walk. They decided to visit a small Muggle fishing port about two miles up the coast that Fleur told them about.

“Very quaint, at least for an English village,” she said as she gave them some Muggle money to spend. “Oh, and ‘Arry, Bill sent an owl. He is coming ‘ome a little early. He wants to talk wiz you, but he didn’t say why.”

It was still overcast and cool, but the breeze had died down. They pulled on their cloaks and set out along the cliff-top to the path down to the beach. They walked barefoot in the sand again, stopping often to watch gulls dip into the waves for fish, to pick up shells, and to chase each other in and out of the frigid wash.

It took them about an hour to reach the village, which was set back from the beach on a low bluff. Just past it, under sheltering cliffs, was a cove where small boats were moored to a few piers. They wandered through the village, poking into shops that sold fishing tackle and boating supplies. The Muggles looked at them curiously, but were friendly and nodded or briefly wished them good day. They bought two chocolate bars in a tiny grocery and headed back.

They had finished the chocolate and were almost at the path that led up the cliff when they saw, ahead of them on the beach, a small fire burning in a shallow pit in the sand, and six young Muggle men standing around it. As they drew nearer, they also saw several cases of beer lying nearby, one of which was open, and empty beer bottles scattered about; each of the Muggles had a bottle in his hand. They were talking and laughing loudly, but fell silent and turned to watch Harry and Ginny as they approached.

Harry nodded as he and Ginny passed within a few feet of them between the small fire and the waves. One of the Muggles, a large, muscular, arrogant-looking fellow who was about six inches taller than Harry, took a swig from his bottle and belched loudly; his friends laughed.

“Hey, reds,” he called, leering at Ginny, “your boyfriend’s kinda scrawny. Why don’t you try something more manly?” His mates laughed again, and one of them whistled.

Ginny tensed and took Harry’s hand. Harry glanced at the man, but kept walking. The Muggle stepped in front of them, blocking their way. Harry put his hand inside his cloak.

“Don’t, Harry,” Ginny said, “he’s just drunk.” But she tightened her grip on his other hand.

“Harry is it?” The man folded his arms on his chest and looked over at the others. “Looks more like Harriet to me.” There was more guffawing, and he leered at Ginny again. “Why don’t you lose the fairy, reds, and we’ll show you how real men do it.” The others moved towards them, hemming Harry and Ginny in along the water’s edge.

Harry put his arm around Ginny and looked at the Muggle. “I’ll give you some advice,” he said quietly, “and you’d better take it. Shut your mouth and move and let us pass.”

Harry could sense the men behind moving closer, and he could feel Ginny pressing herself against him. The Muggle in front of them took another swig of beer as his eyes narrowed.

“Move for you, you little faggot? I think we’ll see how well you swim and how well your girlfriend—”

Harry’s wand was out. There was a loud bang! and a flash of red light. The man flew in the air towards the cliffs and landed in the sand with a heavy thud; he did not move. Harry whirled and the five behind him backed away, incomprehension and fear on their faces.

Ginny was also pointing her wand at them but Harry pushed it down. He drew Ginny back, and the Muggles did not see several dozen bottles of beer rise out of the cases and hover over their heads. They did, however, hear them all burst simultaneously and they looked up at the shower of pale ale that completely drenched them.

 _”Stupefy!”_ Harry shouted, and all five slumped into the large, sudsy pool of beer they were standing in. He pointed his wand at the Muggle lying unconscious near the cliff, and he rose off the sand and floated towards his five inert companions. Harry let him drop from about three feet up, and he fell with a splash and another thud into the beer bath.

Harry pointed his wand at the pile of Muggles. _”Obliviate!”_ he called, and started to pull Ginny toward the cliff. “Come on, I’ll clear our tracks and no one will ever figure out what happened.”

Ginny had an angry, blazing look, and shook off his hand. “Wait,” she said curtly. She walked to the big Muggle and pointed her wand, but Harry yelled, “Ginny! No!”

She looked back at him and scowled, but lowered her wand. “You do it, then, or else I will.”

“No problem, love,” he grinned, and in an instant the Muggle’s face was covered with small brownish lumps that had large, fiercely beating bat wings attached. Ginny looked down at him. “That’ll improve his looks for a while,” she said between clenched teeth. “Bastard!”

They climbed the path and at the top turned back. Harry raised his wand and all the footprints within fifty yards of the Muggles disappeared. He raised his wand once more. _”Finite!_ ” he called, and the Muggles began to stir in the puddle of beer. Harry and Ginny watched for a moment, then Harry put his arm around her and they started back for the cottage.

Harry sauntered along, laughing and joking about how the six morons would have to explain their bruised, beer-soaked, and befuddled condition to their families and maybe to the Muggle police. But Ginny was silent, and after a few minutes she pulled away and walked in more silence, ignoring his banter, looking straight ahead.

“What’s wrong?” Harry said; he tried to take her hand, but she wouldn’t let him. “Ginny, if you had done magic there would be an owl from the Ministry waiting for you at the cottage. And they’d want to know why you used it on a Muggle.”

She strode along without answering. Harry grabbed her hand and forced her to stop. She turned and glared at him. “I asked you to stop protecting me, Harry. I’m getting tired of it. I can take care of myself, even from sods like them.”

“But—but—” Harry stammered, and had to run to catch up to her. “Ginny! What are you talking about? I kept you from getting into big trouble. Please, don’t—”

She ignored him. In a few minutes they were at the cottage, and Ginny brushed past Fleur who was waiting for them inside the door. She watched Ginny stomp up the stairs and turned to Harry.

“Mon Dieu, ‘Arry, what ‘appened? Why is she angry?”

Harry, looking confused, told her what had happened. Fleur took his hand. “But you are not ‘urt? Or Ginny?”

Harry shook his head. “No. But I don’t understand. I was afraid if she did magic she would get into trouble.” He thought about how Ginny had moved closer to him as they were standing in front of the Muggle. “I don’t understand . . .”

He turned away, looking out a window. Fleur turned him back and put her hand gently on his cheek. “You were very brave, ‘Arry. I will speak to ‘er. I t’ink I know why she is angry.” Harry looked back out the window and heard her climb the stairs, then a soft knock, low voices, and a door opening and closing.

When Fleur opened the door, Ginny was also looking out a window and did not turn or acknowledge her. “Ginny,” Fleur said gently, “why do you treat ‘Arry like zat? ‘E was just trying to protect you from ‘arm.”

Ginny let out her breath. “I asked him not to do that, to stop smothering me.” She faced Fleur. “I don’t like it when—”

“When a man acts like a man?” Fleur finished the sentence.

“What do you mean?” Ginny said angrily. “I just want him to let me make up my own mind. If I want help I’ll ask for it.”

“Ginny, ‘Arry was right. If you do magic against a Muggle you will get into a lot of trouble. And ‘e was doing what any man does when ‘e loves a woman. ‘E is not trying to smozer—ah, smo-ther you.  ‘e is showing ‘ow much he loves you. Zere is a difference between not letting you pour your own pumpkin juice, and fighting a bully who wants to ‘urt you.”

Ginny sat on the bed and thought back to the beach, remembering the bolt of fear when the Muggle looked at her with nothing but evil in his eyes. She also remembered Harry putting his arm around her just at that moment; it had felt very good. She looked at Fleur. “Is he okay?”

Fleur smiled, and magical delight filled the room. “If ‘e isn’t, I t’ink ‘e will be when you ask ‘im zat.” She opened the door and stood aside as Ginny went out.

Harry turned from the window when he heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Ginny stopped at the bottom. “Are you okay?” she said.

Harry nodded and smiled briefly. “I’m sorry.”

Ginny walked towards him. “For what?”

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Ginny put her arms around his neck. “What you did was brilliant. What I did was stupid. I’m sorry.”

“Oh.” Harry couldn’t say more because Ginny had put her mouth over his. Before he closed his eyes he saw Fleur slip into the kitchen and quietly close the door behind her.


	7. Hidey Places

Bill came home half an hour later and found Ginny sitting in front of the fireplace and Harry reclining with his head in her lap. Harry was holding his wand, examining it and turning it between his fingers. They both looked up when Bill came in.

“Don’t get up,” he grinned. “I’ll be right back.” He hung up his cloak and went into the kitchen, where Ginny and Harry heard him talking to Fleur. They both came out into the parlor and Harry sat up.

“Fleur said you ran into some Muggles this afternoon,” Bill said. “I think I know who they were. We’ve seen them along the cliff a few times.”

“But zey never bozered us,” said Fleur. “I t’ink zey are scared by Bill’s face.”

Bill ran his finger over his nose. “There’s one big bloke who’s the worst troublemaker. Derrick Roach. His father is a magistrate in the local Muggle government and owns quite a bit of property, so his kid gets away with a lot.”

“Not this time,” Harry said. “He opened his mouth one too many times and said a couple of things to Ginny. He now has a face-full of bat wings.”

Bill looked at Ginny in alarm. “You didn’t use your Bat-Bogey hex, I hope.”

“Not to worry,” she said cheerfully. “Harry did the honors. But I was thinking I’d come back after my birthday and cut off his ba—”

“Okay!” Bill laughed. “I get the idea.” He turned to Harry. “Did you get an owl from the Ministry? They usually want to know when someone uses magic on Muggles.”

“Not yet. But Fleur said you wanted to talk to me?”

Bill’s brow furrowed. “I overheard some things at work that I wanted to ask you about. A goblin who works in the Property Office mentioned that—”

“Wait!” Harry waved his hands in the air. “Can we talk about it somewhere else? It’s . . . it’s . . . um . . .”

“I think it has something to do with my birthday present,” Ginny said.

“I didn’t say that. It . . . um . . . probably has something to do with the mess that dragon made.”

“Right,” Ginny said. “Go ahead and talk. I like rubies, I never had any, you know. Oh, and chocolate cake.”

Harry grinned, and he and Bill went outside. As they walked around the side of the cottage Bill asked Harry about his wand. “Is something wrong with it? I saw you looking at it.”

“I don’t think so, but it acted a little differently this afternoon. Something happened to it after the battle that might have affected it. It’s fine, though.” They sat on the low stone wall near Dobby’s grave. Harry changed the subject, not wanting the matter of the Elder Wand to come up. “What about the goblin?”

“I heard you bought the Hog’s Head Inn,” Bill began. “The goblins are all talking about how they got some revenge for the theft, as they’re calling it. What happened?”

Harry was momentarily nonplused. “Yeah,” he said after a moment “Aberforth sold it to the goblins the day after the battle, and—”

“Why did he sell it? That really surprised me. He’s owned it for years.”

“I think he wants to get away for a while. He said he was going abroad. The goblins were arguing with him about the price. They said that goblins had built the place, so it was rightfully theirs.”

Bill snorted. “That’s rubbish. Every building in Hogsmeade was built by an old family of wizard carpenters that lives right outside the village. I did a research paper when I was a student,” he explained when Harry gave him a questioning look. “Professor Binns was teaching a course on the history of magical places.”

“Must have been interesting. Anyway, they were pretty steamed about it, and then they started talking about wizards attacking Gringotts and stealing their dragons and breaking into vaults. They mentioned me, of course, so someone went and got Kingsley, and then _he_ went and got me. So I was kind of stuck in the middle.”

Bill sat, thinking. “Hmm. The last thing Kingsley would want the day after the battle would be a mini goblin rebellion. They probably realized that, and thought they could pressure him and Aberforth into giving the inn away.”

“More politics,” Harry said with distaste. “But I had an idea.” He glanced at Bill. “I had already decided that I wanted to take some classes at Hogwarts next year, even if I couldn’t do my seventh year again. And I also had some ideas about, um . . . well . . .” he hesitated.

“You wanted to be near Ginny,” Bill grinned.

Harry nodded, thankful that Bill understood. “I thought she’d like that. I know I would,” he said softly.

“Everyone in the family would, Harry.” Bill looked over at the cottage and Harry followed his gaze; they could see Ginny and Fleur through the kitchen window, sitting at the table and talking. “I don’t think I’m giving anything away by telling you how much she worried about you all year,” Bill said. “And Fred . . . She needs lots of comfort.”

Harry was not surprised to hear this from Bill. He had seen how Bill had become like a father to both Ginny and Ron since Fred’s death, while Arthur was preoccupied with Molly’s grief. But Harry had started to feel that Bill was also filling a need for himself, a need he was quite familiar with. He had lost Sirius and Dumbledore, and Remus had stepped in; now Remus was gone. It felt good to talk to Bill, to have someone who understood him. It was quite different from talking to Ron, even though Bill was only ten years older.

Of course, it was complicated by Bill’s being Ginny’s brother, but Bill had none of the possessive protectiveness that Ron had shown. It never seemed to occur to Bill that Harry would ever do anything to hurt Ginny. In fact, Harry sensed that Bill expected that, someday, Harry would become the one whom Ginny looked to for shelter in a storm. It made Harry feel part of the Weasley family, like Ginny’s love and Ron’s friendship.

Harry picked up his train of conversation. “I kind of blurted out that I’d like to buy the inn. So we went into another room, and I asked Ron and Hermione to come with me because there were five of them and only one of me. I think I still ended up paying too much, but what the hell, it’s only money.”

Bill laughed. “It’s great that you can say that. No one in the Weasley family can, although I suspect that George . . .” He trailed off and sighed. “Anyway, yes, you did pay too much, at least as best as I can tell. And that won’t make goblins feel any better about wizards. But I’ll go out on a limb here, since somehow I can’t see you as a barkeep for the rest of your life. My guess is that you’ll sell it back eventually, and if you do, remember that you have a few cards of your own to play.”

“Like what? Goblins can be pretty intimidating when they want to.”

“And they know it. It sounds like they pulled that act on you. But there’s two things you need to remember. First, you have a substantial fortune stored in their vaults, and they wouldn’t like to see it go someplace else.”

“Like where?”

“Like to another wizarding bank, even a bank overseas. Fleur has relatives who own a bank in France, did you know that? The goblins do.”

Harry glanced at the cottage again; Ginny and Fleur were still sitting at the kitchen table but now vegetables and chunks of meat were flying off the table towards the stove.

“The other thing you need to remember,” Bill went on, “is that you are Harry Potter, nemesis of the Dark Lord. A lot of goblins expected Voldemort to win. They would have ended up regretting it, but they’ve been treated so badly by wizards in general that they were receptive to his lies.”

He paused and looked off into the distance. “Kingsley wants to change that. I think that’s why he got involved when he found out that Aberforth wanted to sell. He saw a chance to open up a dialogue.”

“And I blew it,” Harry said ruefully. “I told you I’d never understand politics.”

“You could have done better, that’s true, but many, many others have done worse. Don’t undersell yourself, Harry. You are somebody. Don’t over-reach, but don’t under-reach, either.”

“Why are you telling me all this?” Harry asked. He had always gotten advice from Dumbledore, Sirius, and Remus, but Bill’s frank, friendly, and warm style was a little different; Harry liked it.

Bill grinned. “I have a very dear sister who is head over heels in love with you. And I think she has very good taste.”

Harry went scarlet and Bill laughed again. “I thought only Ron could turn that color. Sorry, Harry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” He stood. “I think we should see how dinner is coming along. I don’t want that meat to get overcooked. And don’t worry, I won’t say anything to Ginny about the inn.”

After dinner Harry and Ginny were sitting outside on the edge of the cliff watching the waves, when an owl from the Ministry finally arrived. They didn’t see it until it literally fell out of the sky and plopped at their feet. It lay sprawled on the rocks, looked up at Harry with a feeble, pathetic hoot, and lifted its leg in the air.

“No wonder it took so long,” Harry said as he removed the parchment. “This one’s more decrepit than Errol.” His remark seemed to upset the owl; it clucked a few times and struggled to its feet, flapping its wings erratically.

Ginny stroked its head feathers. “There, there. Don’t listen to nasty old wizard. _I_ understand.” The owl took heart and managed to flap up to Ginny’s shoulder, where it perched contentedly, nibbling on her ear and pecking at Harry whenever it thought he was getting too close.

Harry began perusing the parchment, and Ginny transferred the owl to her other shoulder and read over Harry’s. It was an Official Notice from the Improper Use of Magic Office.

 

 

 

 

 

 

> _Dear Mr. Potter. Greetings. We are advised that you performed five (5) or six (6) charms and/or spells and/or jinxes and/or hexes upon as many as six (6) Muggles on the current date, at a location along the Channel coast in Essex._
> 
> _In addition, we are advised that you may have performed a combination Levitating and Separating charm and/or spell and/or jinx and/or hex in the presence of said Muggles on said date at said location._
> 
> _While there is no evidence at this time of any violation of Magical law on your part, this Office is nevertheless conducting a routine investigation to determine whether or not additional action by the Ministry of Magic may be required with respect to the events alluded to herein above._
> 
> _We are, therefore, respectfully requesting that you provide us with any information you may possess about the events alluded to herein above, including the names of any non-Muggle witnesses, and the specific charms and/or spells and/or jinxes and/or hexes you may have used during the events alluded to herein above._
> 
> _Furthermore, we respectfully request that you provide the information requested herein above within thirty (30) days of your receipt of this Notice._
> 
> _Respectfully yours,_
> 
> _Priscilla Pompard_
> 
> _Improper Use of Magic Office, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Ministry of Magic_

“Blimey, does Kingsley have his work cut out for him,” Harry remarked.

“Yeah,” said Ginny. “First throw all the solicitors into Azkaban.”

Harry chortled. “Well, I might as well do it now. Come on, bring the bird.”

They went into the cottage—the owl still perched on Ginny’s shoulder—and into the kitchen, where Fleur was cleaning up from dinner. They sat at the table and the owl flew up to the top of a cabinet and peered down at the room.

“If zat bird makes a mess in ‘ere, I will cook ‘im for dinner tomorrow,” Fleur said darkly and pointed a large cleaver at it. The owl squawked and hopped along the cabinet away from Fleur’s menacing knife.

“Fleur, do you have a quill and some ink?” Harry asked as he laid the Notice on the table; the Ministry had conveniently left space at the bottom for Harry to write his response. Fleur fetched the writing materials from a drawer while keeping an eye on the owl. Harry and Ginny reviewed the events of the afternoon, and Harry wrote down the details.

“Don’t forget the Bat-Bogey charm and/or spell and/or jinx and/or hex,” Ginny said.

Harry laughed, “I won’t, but that’s the one most likely to get me in trouble. They’ll have to send someone from the reversal office or whatever they call it to sort him out.”

“Then why don’t you wait the whole thirty days,” Ginny suggested.

“Hmm, that’s not a bad idea. But we’d have to keep the owl here so we’d have a way to send it back.”

“Non, non, non!” Fleur waved the cleaver in the air, and the owl squawked again and hopped along the cabinet as far from her as it could get. “Absolutely not! ‘e must get out of zis ‘ouse, now!”

Harry laughed again. “Okay. Here, it’s ready.” He rolled up the parchment and took it to the cabinet where the owl was perched. When he reached up to take the bird down, it pecked at his hand. “Ouch! Damn bird! Here,” he handed the parchment to Ginny. “He likes you. You do it.”

Ginny took the parchment, and the owl flew down to her shoulder; it lifted its leg and Ginny tied the Notice on. They walked outside and the owl flew off, wobbling a bit but on a steady course to the southwest, and disappeared into the dusk.

They went back to the wall where they had been sitting and watching the sea. The horizon was shrouded in darkness but they could still see whitecaps as waves crested near the shore. Harry put his arm around Ginny and she moved closer.

The door of the cottage opened and Bill stepped out holding a small rug. He waved at them and tossed the rug into the air; as it floated, Bill pointed his wand and dust flew off and wafted away. He grabbed the rug and took it back inside.

“Bill is a great guy,” Harry said, thinking about their talk earlier in the day.

Ginny looked up at him. “He is. Why do you say that?”

“He makes me feel like I’m part of your family.”

Ginny put her head back on his shoulder, but didn’t speak. When Harry turned his head and kissed her brow, she put both arms around him. “I’m glad,” she said into his chest. “He does have a way of making you feel welcome, if that’s the word. Maybe wanted is the right one.” She looked up at him again and Harry could see her smile in the candlelight glowing through the windows of the cottage.

“Yes,” he agreed, “that’s how I feel.”

#   #   #   #

Several days passed and the weather turned warmer and sunnier. Harry and Ginny spent most of their days on the beach, talking, reading, napping on a blanket, building magical sand castles. They never saw Muggles again. They took several long walks to the fishing port and beyond, and became acquainted with the owners of the grocery where they bought candy. Once they overheard a conversation between two other customers about a strange rash that one of the local youths had come down with. The clinic in the nearby town had not been able to treat it and had sent him down to London to see a specialist.

“They better send him to a specialist at St. Mungo’s,” Ginny chuckled as they walked back. “Or to the bat house at the zoo.”

“I wonder why they haven’t sorted him out yet,” Harry said. “I hope that owl got back to the Ministry.”

“It’s probably lost in someone’s inbox and/or trash bin.” They both laughed.

Although their days were fine, they both were waking up every morning not well rested. Bill commented on their drowsiness at breakfast and suggested a sleeping potion, but Fleur shook her head and smiled to herself. In fact, both Harry and Ginny were lying awake almost every night thinking about the person just on the other side of the wall separating their tiny bedrooms. But neither one said anything. Harry did not want to go past the limit that Ginny had set, although it was becoming harder and harder for him to stop himself. Ginny did not want to put Bill in the position of having to confront her about a rule that her parents might have insisted on before allowing her to come to his home with Harry, although it was becoming harder and harder for her to stick to her conviction. In the close quarters of Shell Cottage, always in each other’s presence, they thought and dreamed about each other.

Eleven days after they came to Shell Cottage an owl arrived before lunch from Hogwarts addressed to both of them. Ginny read it sitting at the kitchen table while Harry stood behind her, brushing her hair.

“It’s from Professor McGonagall. This explains why we haven’t heard anything about Colin’s funeral. His parents are asking his friends to have a memorial service for him at school. They buried him a week ago but the service was for family only.”

“They didn’t want any wizards or witches showing up in weird clothes,” Harry guessed. “It’s okay with me. I wasn’t fancying another funeral.”

Ginny rolled up the parchment. “Me either. I was thinking that we could have a D.A. reunion at my birthday party and make it a memorial for Colin too. Luna suggested it. I like the idea.”

“So do I.”

Harry continued to brush; he loved the silky feel and flowery scent of her hair. And when he was finished, Ginny always turned around for a long and enjoyable snog.

This time was no different, but just as their tongues were becoming involved and their breathing heavy, and Harry’s hands were straying down her hips, the kitchen door opened. Their tongues and then their mouths disengaged; they were surprised, since Fleur always left them alone when she knew this activity was occurring. They turned and saw Ron standing in the doorway, his hand on the handle, and Hermione behind him peering around his side.

Ron stared at them; his mouth worked but nothing came out. Harry started to pull away but Ginny tightened her hold and wouldn’t let him go. Hermione glanced apprehensively up at Ron’s face.

Ron finally put his fist to his mouth and cleared his throat. “So, how are you blokes? We can wait in the parlor if, uh, if you’d like.”

Harry could feel Ginny relax. She gave him a quick squeeze, flew to Ron, and, with a big smile, gave him a sloppy kiss on his cheek. “We’re fine! It’s great to see you.” She hugged Hermione and pulled them into the kitchen. “Why are you here?”

“We both had some time off,” Hermione said, “so we just decided on the spur of the moment to pop up here.” She sounded as though it had been a momentous decision. “It’s so much—”

“I got hired at the Ministry!” Ron interrupted, unable to contain his news. “It’s not the most exciting job, but it’ll be a regular paycheck and, Harry, get this. Shacklebolt is setting up a whole program for anyone who wants to take the Auror exams. It’s three years, but they don’t care about all those Acceptables I got at Hogwarts, or any of that crap. Pass the exams and the practicals and you’re in!”

“Don’t be so restrained, Ron,” Hermione said as Harry grinned at Ron’s enthusiasm. “And don’t be surprised if the exams are a lot harder than O.W.L.s.”

Ron waved away her caution. “Yeah, but this time I won’t have all that other school stuff to distract me.”

“No, just a shop full of free jokes right underneath your feet. But you’re right. It’s a brilliant program. Harry, you should really consider it. You would ace it.”

Harry shook his head. “Maybe later. I have other plans for the immediate future.”

“Right,” said Ron. “Well, what have you two been up to, aside from imitating thrashing eels?” He grinned at Ginny who stuck her tongue out at him.

“Not much, aside from that,” replied Harry, fending off Ginny’s punch. “Walks along the beach, naps, meals, naps, walks along the beach, you get the idea.”

“Busy schedule,” Ron chuckled. He looked around the kitchen. “How’s the food?”

“Much better than last time. I think Fleur was pretty unprepared when we showed up and she also didn’t like having to feed Griphook. And Ginny’s learning French cuisine. She knows all the French names for everything,”

Oui,” said Ginny. “Le fromage, le vin, la viande, les pommes de terre. What else does a young witch need to know?”

They decided to take a walk down to the beach, and Ginny went to tell Fleur who was up in her bedroom and hadn’t heard Ron and Hermione arrive. She came downstairs with hugs and kisses for both; Ron only blushed a little.

“Do not be too long,” she said. “I will ‘ave lunch ready in an hour.” They decided to stay near the cottage and take a longer walk afterwards. They went out and sat near Dobby’s grave; it was covered with sprays of flowers that Harry and Ginny had placed on it. They talked about Colin’s funeral—Ron and Hermione had received the same owl from Professor McGonagall—and liked Ginny’s idea of a D.A. reunion. Ron told them that Dean, Neville, and Neville’s girlfriend Keesha were frequent visitors to Diagon Alley and talked about getting the D.A. back together somehow. George had also shown up at the shop once, but didn’t stay long.

“I don’t think he’s ready yet,” said Ron. “Lee and the witches are keeping it going, and we help out in the evenings.”

Harry asked about his new job in the Ministry. “The International Magical Office of Law,” Ron said pompously, and laughed. “I wanted Games and Sports, but so did everyone else, and they had all finished their seventh year.”

“You mean all the boys wanted it,” Hermione corrected him.

“Well, some girls too. Angelina Johnson’s already there.” Hermione shrugged.

“So what does your office do?” Harry asked.

“Haven’t a clue, and I’ve been there for four days already. But it doesn’t matter. I won’t be there after the Auror program starts.”

“They help set up conferences and coordinate legal activities,” Hermione said. “They liaise with other magical governments.”

“Okay, that’s what they do.”

Ginny turned to Hermione. “What about you? Have you started at that institute yet?”

“You’ll be sorry you asked,” Ron grinned.

Hermione jumped up, ignoring him. “Oh, it’s fabulous! You wouldn’t believe what they’re doing! I’m working directly under Septieme Geneva, she’s the witch who wrote all the Arithmancy textbooks. She’s world famous, and she’s brilliant. And Kingsley asked her to set up a special project, and she put me on it!” Hermione beamed, her arms outspread, and looked at them expectantly. Her face fell when Ginny and Harry just stared at her blankly.

“Tell them what the project is,” Ron prompted.

“Oh right. Kingsley wants to set up an office in the Law Enforcement Department that can trace every use of an Unforgivable Curse. He wants to know who used it, when, where, and who it was used against. I think he wants to abolish them somehow, eventually. Isn’t that brilliant? So we’re doing all the theoretical groundwork. It’ll take months, maybe years, but it’s so exciting. I’m doing exactly what I’ve dreamed of doing for years and it’s going to make such a difference!”

“It’s not like she loves the job,” Ron said. “I have to check her every morning before she leaves to make sure she didn’t forget to put her shoes on.”

“That’s not true. I did forget to tie them once.”

At that moment Fleur called them in for lunch. Afterwards they walked along the cliff to the path down to the beach. Ron wanted to see the fishing port, and as they traipsed over the sand Harry and Ginny told them about their confrontation with the Muggles.

“Hey,” Ron interrupted Harry when he was describing the Bat-Bogey hex, “I heard about that bloke. They had him in St. Mungo’s for two days. So that was you?” He peered at both Harry and Ginny. “I wish I had known. I would have gone and cut off his ba—”

Uh, uh,” Ginny interrupted. “I have dibs on them. After my birthday.”

“You are one ferocious family,” Harry observed. “Hermione, we’d both better be careful.”

“ _You’d_ better be careful,” Hermione said. “I don’t have those.” Harry and Ginny both laughed and looked at Hermione in surprise; she had never joked like that before. Harry noticed that Ron was looking at her with an amused expression, and decided that they were both becoming a good influence on each other.

The village was quiet as usual but they attracted a little more attention this time. The locals had got used to seeing two teenagers wandering around in cloaks, but here were two more, and one of them another redhead. It was good for gossip, though, so everyone was friendly, especially the grocery proprietor after he sold out his entire stock of chocolate candy to Ron, who borrowed all of Ginny and Harry’s Muggle money.

The sun was shining brightly, and low waves were breaking off-shore as they walked back. A warm land breeze dropped as the cliffs on their right gradually rose. They climbed the path in the cleft and were only a few hundred yards from the cottage when Ginny noticed a figure coming towards them.

“Bill is home,” she said, shading her eyes. “Something’s wrong.” They hurried to meet him, and saw his worried expression when he got closer.

“Good, you’re here,” he said, looking around nervously as he spoke. “We’ve got to get back. Ginny, Mum wants you home.”

“What! Why? What happened?” Ginny exclaimed. “Is anyone hurt?”

“No, no. Everyone is fine. But Fenrir Greyback has broken out of Azkaban.”

They were silent until, after a moment, Ron swore. “What the hell is going on? Did the dementors screw up? The Ministry was supposed to have this under control.”

Bill started shepherding them along. “I don’t know. There’s all kinds of rumors in town. But everyone is freaked, especially Mum.”

Fleur was waiting just outside the door. She had a small traveling bag with her and was holding her wand, looking worried. “I started to pack your t’ings,” she said to Harry and Ginny. “Do we put ze Fidelius back on ze ‘ouse?” she asked Bill.

He thought for a moment and nodded. “No point in taking chances. Go pack,” he said to Harry and Ginny. “The charm is going to take a while and I want to get going.”

They went upstairs and were back down in a few minutes. Ginny was biting her lip, looking worried, and Harry took her arm. “We’ll be fine,” he told her. “There’s no way he can get into the Burrow.”

“I know, it’s just that I thought we were finished with this. I thought all we had to worry about were drunken Muggles on the beach.”

Harry smiled. “Well, we’ll all be together.”

“And this time you’re with us.”

“We’re coming too,” Ron said. He had his arm around Hermione who was pale.

“Good,” said Bill; he was facing the cottage, casting the complicated spell. “Mum and Dad will appreciate that.” He glanced at Hermione, who was now looking ill. “Are you all right?”

Hermione just shook her head, and Ron said, “That’s why we’re coming.” Fleur quickly came and also put her arm around Hermione’s shoulder.

“Zat monster t’reatened you, didn’t ‘e? Don’t worry, darling, no one will let zat ‘appen again. You are safe wiz us.”

“Thanks,” she whispered. She put her hand over her eyes and Ron put both of his arms around her. They all stood next to her as her body shook and muffled sobs came from Ron’s chest where her face was buried. She lifted her head.

“I’m sorry,” she said in a choked voice. “It—it all just came over me again.” She looked at Ron as though pleading. “But she’s dead. I saw Bellatrix die. She’s dead.” Ron stroked her hair

“Okay, it’s time,” said Bill. He set a battered copper kettle on the ground and they all knelt and put a hand on it. In seconds they were in the lane just outside the Burrow’s front gate, and as they hurried towards the house, Charlie opened the door. He was almost bowled over by Molly who charged past him and ran to Ginny. She hugged her so hard that Ginny grunted. “Mum, you’re strangling me!” She extricated herself and Molly went down the line, hugging and kissing the others.

When they had all gone inside, where the rest of the family were gathered in the kitchen, Molly sat next to Arthur, who took her hand; he looked drawn and tired.

“Thank goodness,” Molly said in a no-nonsense voice, “now we’re all here, and we’ll stay here until they catch him.” She glared at Charlie. “I don’t care. He has as good a reason to come here as anywhere.”

Charlie looked at Bill and raised his eyebrows. “He probably went into hiding. Every Auror in England must be looking for him, plus dementors.”

“No,” said Arthur quietly, “no dementors. Kingsley is not using them for that kind of thing anymore.”

“He should be!” Molly snapped. “People’s lives are at risk.”

“Does anyone know what happened?” Harry said. “Bill said there are rumors, but do we know what actually happened? How do we know he really got out? Maybe that’s a rumor too.”

Everyone started talking at once, until Percy shouted, “Quiet!” and the room went still; everyone turned to him. “Gawain Robards sent me an owl thirty minutes ago and—”

“He sent you an owl?” Bill interrupted, somewhat incredulously.

“I’ve been helping him straighten out the mess that Rufus Scrimgeour left when he was in charge of the Department,” Percy said testily. “I never worked there myself, though,” he added smugly. “In any event, Robards owled me. He said that four Death Eaters disguised as Aurors showed up at Azkaban this morning an hour before Greyback was to be picked up and taken to the Ministry for his trial. They bluffed their way past the guards and took him. Neither the imposters nor Greyback have been seen since.” He paused and looked around. “Anything else you hear is unofficial and probably a false rumor.”

“Okay,” said Bill into the silence, ”what about protection? What about the house and the grounds? We Portkeyed in without any problem.”

“Taken care of,” George spoke from the back of the room. “We’re as safe as can be without a Fidelius.”

“I don’t think we need one,” said Charlie. “Can’t we wait for more information before we go whole hog and keep anyone from finding us? For Merlin’s sake, it’s only one man.”

“It’s at least five men,” Molly snapped again. “And they could be right around the corner of the lane, just waiting.”

Arthur put his hand on Molly’s shoulder. “Dear, we have ten excellent wizards and witches here. No one would be so foolish as to—”

“Wait!” Fleur, who was standing by the window, held up her hand. “I just ‘eard somet’ing.” She peered out the window and most of the others crowded around to see. Two people were standing outside the gate: Head Auror Saliyah Ushujaa and another witch, also in Auror robes.

“That’s Laura Lovegood,” Percy said. “I know them both quite well.” He started to open the door.

“Percy!” Molly shrieked, and everyone jumped. “Be careful!”

“Yes, Mum.” He rolled his eyes at Bill, who was standing next to him at the door. They stepped out, along with George and Charlie, who motioned everyone else to stay inside. “Auror Ushujaa, my apologies,” Percy called, “but we need to be certain that you are really you.” He shook his head and muttered under his breath, “That sounds intelligent.” He called out, “What is Department Directive Number Eighty-Seven?”

The Head Auror stared at him. “Percy, this is nonsense. We’ve come with news. Let us in. Oh, all right,” she said crossly as Percy shook his head once more. “There is no Directive Eighty-Seven. The last one was Forty-Two.”

Percy nodded to George, and he waved his wand in a wide circle. There was a loud ringing sound, and the gate swung open. The two Aurors crossed the yard, and Percy shrugged apologetically as Ushujaa glared at him. Charlie opened the door and they entered the crowded kitchen. People moved and shuffled around to make room; Harry found Ginny and stood next to her. Some of the family were sitting, the rest stood around the table. Hermione was staring at the Aurors with a look that Harry thought resembled a cornered rabbit, except that no rabbit could ever be so terrified. Molly was glaring at the Aurors. Percy was trying to arrange people into some kind of order, but everyone ignored him. Finally, Saliyah found a spot next to the stove where everyone could see her, and looked around at each face.

“Fenrir Greyback is dead,” she said. There was total silence; Hermione began to weep.

“Just a moment,” said Arthur, who was sitting in front of the Auror; he turned to face her. “Why in Merlin’s name would the Head Auror come here to tell us that? An owl would have been perfectly sufficient, and if that wasn’t secure enough you or Kingsley could have sent a Patronus.”

“Because there is a crime involved,” replied Saliyah, “and we think some of you may be able to help us.” She looked directly at Ginny, and all the others followed her gaze.

“Me?” Ginny said, startled. “I think I only saw the bast— the blighter two or three times, ever.”

“Yes,” said Saliyah, “but let me explain. Greyback’s body was found this afternoon, about two hours ago, in one of the large rubbish bins next to the public entrance of the Ministry. Fortunately, we found him before the Muggle authorities did. He was mutilated. His face was gone, there were large gashes on his forehead and cheeks, and we found his nose in his pocket.” There were noises from around the room. “Sorry,” she said, “but we don’t know if that’s significant. And all of his wounds were made by a knife, not by fangs or claws or a wand. Also, both of his arms and legs were broken, crushed actually. He probably suffered horribly before he died.”

Ginny had put her hand to her mouth. Harry felt her shaking and put his arm around her. The Aurors were watching her.

“Miss Weasley . . . Ginny,” Saliyah said, “we think that relatives of a Hogwarts student who was killed in the battle, Elizabeth Derby, did this. Greyback may have deserved everything they did to him, and more, but if they did it, they committed a murder themselves. Can you tell us anything?”

Ginny glared at the Auror. “I was holding her hand when she died. It was horrible.” She put her face on Harry’s shoulder and he turned her away.

“Does anyone else know anything?” Saliyah asked, looking around the room. “Minister Shacklebolt asked me personally to come here because he knows what you have gone through. I’m asking for your help.”

There was silence for a long moment. Charlie gripped the back of the chair he was standing behind that George was sitting in. Others shifted on their feet. Then Percy spoke.

“I know you all think I’m a pompous stuffed shirt, and at times I do too. But I wonder if you were listening to Kingsley when he spoke at Fred’s funeral. Do you remember? He said we’ll never have a better world until we make it better ourselves. If we don’t help bring murderers to justice, no matter how deserving of death their victim was, then what is there to keep someone whose motives aren’t as noble as ours—” he looked at Ginny “—from protecting another murderer, maybe a murderer as vile and terrifying as Fenrir Greyback?”

Again there was silence. Harry looked down at Ginny; she was staring at Percy, but she glanced up at Harry. Her eyes were troubled, but she was no longer angry, as she had been a few seconds ago. She looked at Charlie and when he nodded, almost imperceptibly, she turned to Saliyah.

“Yes, that’s how Elizabeth died. She had identical wounds, that’s what it sounds like.” The Aurors looked at each other, and Saliyah put her hand on Arthur’s shoulder.

“Thank you, thank you all.” She glanced at Percy. “Minister Shacklebolt will give all of you his personal thanks, I’m sure. Ginny,” she looked at her, “I doubt that anyone will need to talk to you again about this. We’re fairly certain of the names of those who did it. And if they are caught and tried, frankly I can’t see any jury of witches or wizards sending them to Azkaban. They’ll probably get Ministry detention, maybe for a few years, but it would be nothing like a sentence to Azkaban.”

The family moved into the yard as the Aurors left. Saliyah spoke quietly to Percy, who nodded solemnly. They went out the gate and Disapparated. Bill patted Percy’s back and smiled at him, and they all went inside.

Dinner at the Burrow that evening was a quiet affair. Afterwards, Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione walked down to Fred’s grave and Ginny took the flowers lying on it. “I’ll pick fresh ones tomorrow,” she said. Ron and Hermione left to bid goodbye to the others before returning to London. Later, Bill and Fleur came and told them that they were staying for the night. Harry and Ginny walked back in the darkness and decided that they would remain at the Burrow and not return to Shell Cottage tomorrow with Bill and Fleur.

“You know what?” Ginny said when they stopped near the house and looked up at the stars. She leaned against Harry, and he put his arms around her and pulled her close so that her back was against his chest; he kissed her neck and she giggled. “I’m really glad we’re home. I loved it at the cottage, but . . .”

“But what?”

She paused for a moment. “Do you know what you discover when you live in the same house in the countryside for sixteen years?”

“That’s totally outside my life experience. What do you discover?”

“You discover lots of places where you can go and hide and no one can ever find you.”

Harry felt his pulse speed up for some reason. “And do these hidey places have room for more than one person?”

“Just,” Ginny whispered, and turned her head and kissed him.


	8. Summer of Peace

A warm breeze carried the aroma of a baking peach pie out the open kitchen window of the Burrow and into the pleasant early August afternoon. The fragrance wafted across the garden, where a dozen ugly gnomes looked up from their grubbing and began to salivate. They gazed mournfully at the house, around which, they knew, lay a highly unpleasant—to them—anti-gnome jinx, cast by the Burrow’s newest resident, a very talented young wizard with a tricky wand. They smelled and they yearned, but they could not have it.

The fruity fragrance drifted on its tantalizing way past the garden and the drooling gnomes, over the lawn, and into the nostrils of that young wizard. Harry was lying on a plastic Muggle-made lawn chair recliner in a sunny spot near the very tree from which, that morning, Ginny had picked the peaches—while being Levitated by Harry—that were now baking in the kitchen.

The chair in which Harry was sleeping on his stomach had been plucked a few days ago from a rubbish bin in front of a nearby Muggle house. Arthur Weasley had thought, when he picked it out of the heap of trash, that it would prove a handsome example of traditional Muggle furniture that he could proudly display in the Burrow’s parlor. But Molly had forbidden its presence anywhere inside her house, and Harry had told him that it was supposed to be used outdoors anyway.

Harry was dressed the way he had been dressed most of the summer: in a pair of cut-off jeans, shirtless, and barefoot. His hands dangled down off the chair onto the ground; his wand was tucked through the back of his belt. He was occasionally aware of voices coming from the kitchen, but the warm sun on his back and the indolent mood of the day—in fact of the whole summer—kept him from waking up completely. He turned his head towards the house when the smell of the peach pie reached him, but only to get a better sniff at it during the brief moments when he drifted up out of his nap. He sighed and began snoring quietly into the webbing of the chair.

The voices from the kitchen stopped, and for a while there were no sounds but the peaceful rustling of trees in the light breeze, the buzzing of small insects outside the repellent spell Harry had cast around himself, and bird songs from the nearby woods. Then something began to tickle his left hand, and he reluctantly opened one eye and peered down. A fuzzy, green caterpillar was inching its way up his wrist, looking fuzzier than it really was because he did not have his glasses on. He casually flicked his hand, turned his head, closed his eye, and sighed again.

He felt the tickling again, looked, and flicked the insect off his hand once more. But before he closed his eye, he saw, even without his glasses, the caterpillar rise through the air and disappear over his head. He felt it land in his hair, and at the same time someone behind him giggled. He reached up and took the caterpillar out of his hair, picked his eyeglasses off the ground, put them on, and sat up. Ginny, wearing shorts and a halter top, was peeking out from behind the peach tree, a grin on her face and a wand in her hand pointed at the fuzzy bug. She was barefoot like Harry, and her hair was pulled back and gathered with a red and gold clip in the shape of a griffin.

“You’ve got a hair-piece now,” she said.

Harry wagged his finger at her and stood up, trying to look stern. “You’re not supposed to be doing magic. Your birthday is still a week away. Levitating insects will get you six months in Azkaban, and no time off for good behavior. As if you knew what that was.”

“Why don’t you come and arrest me, then?” She put her hands on her hips and wiggled.

“I’ll do better than that.” He put the caterpillar in the grass and started walking towards her, leering.

“Catch me first!” She laughed and turned and ran, flying around the garden, past the house, and down the lane. Harry went after her, but as he turned into the lane he suddenly yelped and pulled up, hopping on his left foot and holding his right with both hands.

Ginny came running back. “Stub your little toe?” She was still laughing as Harry hopped around the lane, swearing and trying to rub his foot.

“I stepped on a rock. Dammit.” He fell over and Ginny knelt next to him.

“Here, let me see.” Harry lifted his foot and watched as she brushed his sole off and examined it. “Whatever you stepped on wasn’t sharp. There’s just a little bitty mark here.” She pulled her wand from the waistband of her shorts and touched the ball of his foot. “ _Livor est_ ,” she said softly.

“Hey, what did you do?” he exclaimed. “It stopped hurting.”

“I’ve got the magic touch,” Ginny laughed. She stood and took Harry’s hand and pulled him up.

They walked fifty yards down the lane and Ginny pushed aside the branches of the thick hedgerow that lined it. Bending low, they came out the other side in a large, overgrown field. They walked into the middle and Harry conjured a blanket and they sat in a small cleared space, surrounded by waist-high grasses and flowers; they were invisible to anyone who was more than a few yards away.

While Harry lay with his head in her lap, Ginny wove a garland of grass and flowers; she did not use magic, but made it with her own hands. For a while they talked, but when Ginny leaned over to kiss him, he pulled her down and they made love under the open sky with a gentle breeze whispering around them.

Molly Weasley and Saliyah Ushujaa stood at the front door of the Burrow, watching Ginny and Harry disappear down the lane. They had stepped out of the parlor where they had been sitting when they heard Harry’s cry as he trod on the stone. When she saw Ginny touch the sole of Harry’s foot with her wand, and the smile on his face that followed, Molly sighed.

“I wish she wouldn’t do that. Arthur gets a note from the Improper Use of Magic Office every time she does magic here. Well, it’s only for another week.”

Saliyah had a smile on her face. “I’ve never seen two people their age like that. They’re always together, and they’re always having a good time. Ginny’s aglow every time I see her.” Molly glanced at her, and her eyes went back to the empty lane.

“So how’s the party coming along?” Saliyah asked as they returned to the parlor. Preparations were almost complete for a grand bash on the Saturday after Ginny’s seventeenth birthday. The guest list was long, and included all the Gryffindor students from last year, all the members of Dumbledore’s Army, and everyone from the Order of the Phoenix.

“Well,” said Molly, “I hope the house is still standing the next day. And it’s going to be a problem keeping the Muggles from noticing. Someone’s bound to use some kind of loud magic. I’ve warned George, but you know him.” She thought about his parting farewell to Fred.

“It’ll be fine,” Saliyah assured her. “Kingsley and I will help keep it down to a dull roar.”

“That will help, I suppose. But you know that Ginny invited the entire Order, and that unfortunately includes Mundungus Fletcher. I don’t like the idea of him wandering around the house with those sticky fingers.”

“Why don’t you get Harry to put a spell on everything lighter than the couch,” Saliyah laughed. “I heard that he can do some interesting things with his wand.”

“I don’t want to bother Harry. It’s as much his party as Ginny’s. We gave him one last year, but things were so unsettled. Alastor had just been killed, and Harry’s poor owl. Ginny’s going to want him to be with her most of the time.”

“Yes, it’s like they’re Spellotaped together.”

Molly looked out the window which gave a view down the lane; Harry and Ginny were nowhere in sight. “Sometimes I think they’re too close. She’s still so young . . .”

“But Molly, they’re in love. What were you and Arthur doing when you were seventeen? It’s sweet and it’s beautiful. And I’ll bet you ten Galleons that the next big to-do you have here will be a wedding.”

“A wedding? We just had one last year.” Molly pulled a lace handkerchief out of the air and dabbed at her eyes.

She cried easily these days. The weeks since Fred’s funeral had been hard, and the house felt empty even with Ginny and Harry spreading feelings of young love. George had decided that he needed to stop spending hours every day at Fred’s grave, and went back to work; Charlie had left for Romania for a few weeks and would return for Ginny’s birthday; Percy was in London, his career apparently rehabilitated under Saliyah’s sponsorship; Ron had left home right after the funeral and seemed to have time for nothing but Hermione, his job, and the joke shop; and Bill and Fleur came to visit only on weekends. Molly was coping, but barely. Saliyah tried to come down to see her as often as possible, but her duties were heavy and her free time scarce. Moments like these were when Molly missed Tonks the most, when an empty nest loomed and the only child left at home would be the one in his grave.

Saliyah wanted more details about the party, and Molly described the food, catered by Madam Rosmerta from the Three Broomsticks; the entertainment, supplied by a band that had been started up over the summer by a group of Hufflepuffs, the lead singer of which was a friend of Neville Longbottom’s; and the present they had bought for Ginny. Molly had tried to restrain her husband, but Arthur would not be denied the pleasure of completely spoiling his only daughter one last time.

“I think he’s afraid that Harry will outdo him,” she smiled, adjusting the knitting needles that were hovering next to her; they had just begun the first of a platoon of maroon sweaters for this year’s Christmas presents. “His little witch has found her wizard.”

“Here they come.” Saliyah pointed out the window, and a few minutes later the front door opened. They could hear a chair being pulled up at the kitchen table, and Ginny poked her head into the parlor.

“Is it pie yet?” she asked. “We’re hungry.”

“Goodness, you just ate lunch,” said Molly, getting up from the couch. “What on earth were you doing to give you such an appetite?”

“Nothing, Mum.” Ginny turned away so that her mother wouldn’t see her blush, and Molly looked at Saliyah, who just shrugged.

Saliyah and Ginny joined Harry at the table; he was wearing a garland of yellow flowers on his head. Molly peered into the oven, and, with her wand, directed the pie off the rack and onto a trivet in the center of the table. A knife cut it into slices that whisked themselves onto plates that had flown out of a cupboard to a spot in front of each person. Saliyah observed Harry’s crown of cowslip, but took her cue from Molly and did not remark on it; it seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary to Mrs. Weasley.

Molly watched approvingly as Harry immediately tucked in. Her supreme and distracting pleasure of the summer, in addition to observing the happiness of her daughter, had been feeding Harry. Harry, for his part, was enjoying the bounty of Molly Weasley’s home cooking as his second-most pleasurable part of the summer, the first being the company of Molly’s daughter. He finished his piece of pie and waved his hand at the dish in the middle of the table; another slice floated to his plate.

Saliyah observed with professional but slightly awed interest. “What was that, Harry? How did you do that?”

Harry grinned. “Magic.”

“But your wand is . . .  Where is it?”

Harry pulled his wand from his belt. “As long as it’s touching me I can do things. It’s very convenient,” he smiled. “I think Dumbledore could do it.”

“And Voldemort. But how did you learn it?”

“When Riddle used the Killing Curse on me in the forest, he transferred some of his power to me again, like when he gave me my scar.”

Harry was not telling the truth. Even though he didn’t mind if people knew that he had acquired some unusual powers, he did not want anyone except Ron, Hermione, and Ginny to know the real reason. He had begun to notice earlier in the summer that his wand could do some interesting magic. It had first happened when he and Ginny encountered the six unfriendly Muggles on the beach. Harry had only pictured in his mind a shower of beer, and the bottles had risen into the air and burst, seemingly of their own accord. The only reason he could come up with for it was that his wand had been repaired by the Elder Wand. And even though many people were aware that there was something unusual about the wand that Harry had taken from Riddle, he did not want to advertise it and give people reason to think about it.

Saliyah frowned. “Really? So what can you do besides Summon a piece of pie?”

Harry grinned mischievously. “So far that’s the most important thing.” He Summoned a third piece as he finished the second. “So,” he changed the subject, “how are the Death Eater trials coming along? By the way, Mrs. Weasley, this pie is beyond delicious.” She smiled appreciatively.

“They’re coming along,” said Saliyah, but she was still looking at his wand. “They’re all claiming Imperio of course. And we don’t—Merlin’s belly! That’s your fourth piece, Harry! Where are you putting it?”

“It’s those new powers I was talking about,” Harry said. Ginny, whose mouth was full, burst out laughing and had to catch chewed-up peach pie in her hand to keep it from splattering all over herself and the table.

“It’s all right, dear,” Molly said to her. “There are plenty of peaches left. Harry, would you like another pie?”

“Mrs. Weasley, you are spoiling me rotten,” he sighed. “Not now. I’m stuffed.” He sat back in his chair and looked at Ginny. “You woke me up from my nap with your bug trick. I think I’ll go lay down again.” He stood, but Ginny pouted and folded her arms on her chest, although there was a glint in her eye.

“You’re no fun. All you do is eat and sleep, eat and sleep. You’re turning into an old man.” She stood up, bent over from the waist and moved haltingly across the kitchen. “Old man wizard, that’s you, Harry Potter,” she said in a cackling, screechy voice. “I guess I’ll have to become an old hag meself before you’ll pay me any attention.” She took out her wand. “Now, what was that spell to turn me into a hag? Oh, dearie me, my mind must be going, I can’t remember a thing.”

Harry and Saliyah were roaring with laughter, and even Molly was smiling. Harry wiped his eyes.

“Okay, okay, don’t turn into a hag, at least not yet. I want to waste my youth on you first.” He turned red, and glanced at Mrs. Weasley, whose eyebrows were raised. “Uh, I mean, we mustn’t waste our youth on . . . uh . . . Sorry.” He ducked his head at her, took Ginny’s hand, and pulled her out the door. Saliyah and Molly soon heard their laughter as they headed down the lane again.

“Give it up, Molly,” said Saliyah, “They’re both happy, and isn’t that what you want? What we all want, a little bit of normality?” Mrs. Weasley nodded, but her eyes teared as she waved her wand and the plates and dishes floated off the table and into the sink.

# # # #

A hundred and fifty miles away in London, on level two of the Ministry of Magic, Arthur Weasley sat in his cramped, cluttered office, frowning at an official parchment that had just been handed to him by the short, stout wizard standing in front of his desk. The wizard was nervous, and wore an apologetic smile. Arthur was reading the parchment, on which was written a long list of magic that had been performed illegally at the Burrow in the last two months.

The wizard was Ferdinand Forthfield. He was the same age as Arthur, and in fact they had been classmates at Hogwarts and had entered service in the Ministry at the same time. He worked in the Improper Use of Magic Office, on the same level as Arthur’s Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office. After the death of Tom Riddle, Arthur had returned to his old job, although keeping his higher salary grade at the insistence of Kingsley Shacklebolt.

“I’m really sorry, Artie,” the wizard said, brushing his hand over his nearly bald, sweating pate. “Everyone knows who she is and who she’s with, and that her birthday is next week, but sixty-one violations in fifty-nine days—we just couldn’t ignore it. I was able to get Hopkirk to let me hand it to you in person, rather than send an official owl to your home. She’s sympathetic too, but it wouldn’t look good, it would seem like we were playing favorites, and . . .” He trailed off, and his apologetic smile took on a pleading quality.

“Of course, of course, I quite understand, Ferdie, it’s quite understandable, and I appreciate your handling it this way, I really do.” Arthur sighed as he ran his finger down the list. “You know how kids are these days. And she . . . well, she had a rough year.” He looked up, hoping for sympathy, and Ferdinand nodded in agreement.

“Like I said, Artie, everyone understands, but we had no choice. Sixty-one in less than two months!” He chuckled. “Rather extraordinary, actually. She’s quite a talented witch already, judging from this, uh, this activity.” He indicated the parchment in Arthur’s hand.

Arthur was frowning again as he re-read the list. “What are these, here at the top? ‘Medical charms?’ What exactly does that mean? My goodness, there are more than a dozen. I know she’s used a few healing spells, she’s quite good at them,” he added proudly. “I mean, in the proper context, of course. Certainly not outside the confines of Hogwarts.”

“Well, those, Artie, those are something we usually let the parents deal with. I, uh, I don’t know much about it.”

Ferdinand had suddenly turned red, and become interested in a poster hanging on the wall only inches behind Arthur’s head. The poster showed a man with a moustache, wearing a band director’s hat, and the entire poster was in numerous garish colors. Across the top were the words, “Sgt. Pepper.”

“Well, what do you tell the parents to do?” Arthur asked, a little annoyed at Ferdinand’s reticence.

“They, uh, they usually contact a Healer. It’s a medical charm, you see.” He pointed to the parchment. “Well, I’ve got to run. That’s a nice poster you’ve got, but I never heard of that wizard. It’s been brilliant talking to you again, Artie. Must try to stay in touch, righto?” He backed out the door—there wasn’t enough room to turn around—and was gone before Arthur could open his mouth.

He sighed once more and looked down the list again. The two at the bottom were dated today, just this afternoon, in fact. One was a Levitating spell and the other a Healing charm, but the latter was different from the dozen-odd ones listed at the top. They had a strange name that he had never seen before, and there were one or two of them each day for the first week and a half that Ginny had been home after she got back from Shell Cottage. After that, though, they did not appear on the list again. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, then stood and peered out the office door to a wizard sitting at a desk in a room across the hall that was even tinier than his.

“Perkins!” he called to his assistant; the wizard looked up. “Send an owl to St. Mungo’s for me, will you please? Send it to Healer Derwent, and ask if I can come see her this afternoon, preferably right now.”

Perkins departed, and Arthur gazed at the parchment and sighed yet again. But he couldn’t help smiling a little as he went down the names of the magic Ginny had done: levitating, vanishing, transfigurations, tickling, a few healing spells. It was the record of a young witch having a good time—except for the mysterious “medical” charms at the top. He couldn’t figure those out. _Well_ , he thought, _how bad could they be? Obviously no one got hurt._

In a few minutes Perkins was back and handed him a small parchment. “Come any time,” it read, “my office is on the fourth floor. Just come right up.” After a moment’s thought, Arthur stood and took his hat from a hook on the door. “I might not be back today,” he told Perkins. He put the parchment from the Improper Use of Magic Office inside his robes and left. In fifteen minutes he was standing in the waiting room of St. Mungo’s.

There were only a few people there, and only one of them had a particularly bizarre affliction—a witch who was barking loudly and whose bushy tail wagged vigorously as she scratched herself behind the ear with her foot. Arthur went up to the Welcome Witch’s desk.

“I’m here to see Healer Derwent,” he said when the witch failed to look up from her magazine. She waved vaguely at the doors to her right. “Fourth floor.”

“Thanks,” Arthur muttered as he walked away. On the fourth floor it took him a minute to find the room with a metal nameplate announcing, “Healer Hestia Derwent.” He knocked and entered when the witch inside called out, “Come in.”

Hestia Derwent, an attractive, motherly, middle-aged witch, an old friend of the Weasleys’, was sitting behind a desk in her Healer’s robes studying a medical chart. She rose with a smile and came around her desk.

“Arthur, it’s good to see you. How is everyone? How is Molly doing? I hope this isn’t a medical visit.” They shook hands and Hestia led him to a couch under a window where they sat.

“We’re all fine. All the boys have gone, but Harry Potter is staying with us. It’s been a real boon, especially for Molly after . . . after what happened to Fred.”

“Yes. That’s a wound that may never heal, unfortunately. But it sounds like she at least has something to distract her a bit.” They talked for a few more minutes, exchanging gossip about people they both knew. Finally, Arthur drew the parchment from his robes.

“We’ve been having sort of a problem with Ginny this summer,” he began. “Not really a problem, she’s just been a little rambunctious with her magic. She’ll be seventeen next Tuesday, but she’s been doing some extra-curricular magic at the house. Nothing serious, but quite a bit of it.” He laughed nervously. “I actually just got handed this at the office. Oh, I don’t think there’ll be any trouble,” he assured Hestia, who looked concerned. “But there is something on the list . . . The wizard who gave it to me, someone from the Ministry, seemed reluctant to explain it. Here, these.” He pointed to the charms listed at the top of the parchment as he handed it to her.

Hestia began to read, and her eyebrows immediately rose and a look of surprise came over her face. She glanced at Arthur over the top of the parchment and smiled briefly, biting her lower lip; she seemed to be trying not to laugh.

“So you don’t know what this is?” she asked. Arthur shook his head. Hestia perused the list again, counting as she read down. She took a breath and looked at him. “It’s a birth control charm. She used it fifteen times in eleven days.”

Arthur’s eyes bulged. “Fifteen?! In eleven days?! Merlin’s ba—!“ He closed his mouth and stared at her. He swallowed several times, trying to comprehend what the Healer had said. “Does that mean that she . . . and Harry . . . fifteen times in eleven days?”

Hestia nodded. “Probably. It’s a simple charm, very effective,” she added and Arthur looked relieved, “but not long lasting. It’s the one they teach all fifth-year girls at Hogwarts just before they turn sixteen. Very smart of them, if you ask me.”

But Arthur was barely listening. He looked angry, terrified, bemused, and astounded all at once. Hestia put her hand on his. “She’s not the first sixteen-year-old witch to fall in love, Arthur, and she obviously knows what she’s doing. She’s being careful. Didn’t you suspect anything?”

Arthur nodded, but after a second or two shook his head. “They’re off by themselves all the time. Fifteen?”

Hestia laughed. “I’m sorry,” she patted his hand again. “I shouldn’t laugh, but it is quite something, don’t you think?”

Arthur scowled and took the parchment back. “No, I don’t think it’s ‘something.’ She’s not of age, and Harry is our house guest, for goodness sake. How could he do this to us?”

“Pardon me, Arthur, I know it’s none of my business, although you did come here and ask me to explain this to you, but Harry didn’t do anything to you.” Her voice softened. “Think about his life, about what he’s had to do just to keep from being murdered. Now, suddenly, he’s no longer in danger and he’s found someone who’s bringing out all the love that he could never show to anyone. It’s almost a miracle.”

Arthur looked at the parchment again. On one level he knew that Hestia was right, and that Ginny was both smart enough and capable enough to make her own choices, even if she was a week short of seventeen. But on another level he wanted to lock her in her room forever. He didn’t know what he should do. “Do you have any daughters?” he asked.

“Two,” the Healer replied. “Both married. And I have three grandchildren.”

“We don’t have any grandchildren yet,” said Arthur. “I can see them coming, though.”

Hestia burst out laughing. “I’m sorry again,” she said. “But what I see every day, all day long, is suffering. Hearing about happiness is a tonic.”

“I suppose. Still . . .” Arthur stood and started towards the door, but paused. “She stopped using it after eleven days.” He looked at Hestia, puzzled. “Surely they didn’t stop doing—I mean . . . what do you think happened?”

She thought for a moment. “Maybe she taught it to Harry. It wouldn’t register on the Trace if he did it."

Suddenly Arthur turned pale and put his hand to his head. “Good God, I just realized, what am I going to tell Molly? She’ll go berserk.”

“I can’t imagine she doesn’t already suspect something, but can I make a suggestion? Don’t say anything. In a week it won’t matter, and why ruin a perfectly good birthday?”

He stood thinking, and chuckled. “That would be the peaceful way out, wouldn’t it? I don’t know though . . . Well . . .” He came back to Hestia and took her hand. “I appreciate the advice. And what are you doing a week from Saturday? It’s going to be a stupendous party, assuming we’re all still talking to each other.”

“I’ll try to be there,” she laughed. They shook hands and Arthur left.

# # # #

Since they had returned from Shell Cottage, Harry and Ginny had created an internal world of their own. They did not deliberately exclude anyone from it—they interacted with the rest of the family and house-guests—but things happened between them that only they were aware of, and it simply did not occur to them to tell other people what was going on.

For example, they anticipated each other’s needs without being asked. Ginny would get up in the middle of a conversation and bring Harry a butterbeer from the kitchen, and he would take it and smile at her, and everyone else in the parlor would glance at each other, wondering how Ginny knew. Then Harry would get up while describing how Professor Flitwick was going to give him advanced tutoring in Charms, and he would walk over to Ginny and scratch her back, and when he was finished Ginny would take his hand and give it a pat.

Molly and Arthur had gotten used to these kinds of things, but it was new to Saliyah and Kingsley; the latter had come down from London that afternoon with Arthur to join Saliyah as the Weasleys’ dinner guest. After the meal and after Molly’s second peach pie of the day was devoured, the two men went outside and sat near the garden, sipping butterbeers. Kingsley watched Harry and Ginny—who had gone to the field down the lane—soar above the treetops on broomsticks; their whoops and laughter could be clearly heard from the backyard of the Burrow.

“What is it about them?” Kingsley wondered aloud. “I’ve never seen a couple like that. There’s some kind of magic going on, don’t you think?”

Arthur wasn’t listening and didn’t answer. He was sitting in the Muggle lawn chair—which he had forced into an upright position after a titanic struggle—watching the two flyers. He was also thinking about what he had learned that afternoon from Hestia Derwent. He had not told Molly about the list of violations; in fact he had used an Unnoticeable charm on it and hid it under a pile of old work shirts in his dresser. He had trouble looking at Harry, though. He was uncomfortable, but not angry; how could he be, after all? At dinner he could see the Weasley family clock on a counter right behind Harry, with it’s hands pointing at normal activities—At Home, Traveling, At Work. Only a few months ago they had all pointed to Mortal Peril, and it was thanks to Harry that it was no longer so.

And if he had any thoughts about cracking down on Ginny, all he had to do was look at her. He had never seen her so happy in her life. Molly always liked to say that she and Arthur were made for each other, but Ginny and Harry made that observation look like an overstatement.

He knew that he did have to talk to her; he was her father after all, and he had a responsibility. But then again, watching the two of them together had been a pleasure of his and Molly’s all summer. They spread good feelings, somehow; he always felt happy when he was around them.

“It’s contagious,” said Arthur, watching Ginny do three quick barrel rolls over Harry. “The boys used to bring girlfriends home, but they were never like that, and it never made me feel . . . well, I don’t know.” He laughed self-consciously.

“Younger?” Kingsley suggested with a smile, and took a swig of his butterbeer. He was glad to be out of town, if only for an evening. The war might be won, but the effort to move the Ministry of Magic off of its bureaucratic bum in the direction he wanted it to go was often frustrating and always tiring. But tonight he was relaxed; it was a beautiful evening in the middle of a peaceful summer, and he enjoyed watching Harry and Ginny together as much as he enjoyed the company of the Weasleys.

‘I heard that Ron and Hermione Granger went to France with Bill and his wife,” Kingsley said. “When will they be back?”

“Saturday. They want to be here in time for Ginny’s birthday and the party.”

“That will be a blow-out.” Kingsley finished his butterbeer and got to his feet. “Can I get you another one?” Arthur shook his head, and Kingsley walked back to the house and went inside.

At that moment Harry and Ginny appeared around the side of the Burrow with their brooms slung over their shoulders, both of them barefoot and in tee shirts. They stopped underneath the window of Ginny’s room, leaned their brooms against the side of the house, and Ginny pointed her wand. Two hoodies flew out the window of her room and dropped into her hands. She gave one to Harry and they turned and continued across the lawn towards the woods in back of the house.

“Ginny!” her father barked. “Where are you going? Don’t stay out late!  And no magic! How many times do I have to tell you?”

“Oops. Sorry, Dad,” she called as she and Harry passed the gate at the end of the lawn. “I didn’t see you there.” They now had their arms around each other, and soon they disappeared down a path that led into the woods.

“Sixty-two,” muttered Arthur, frowning.

Kingsley reappeared as Harry and Ginny were walking out the gate. He watched them go and sat down. “You’re right,” he said thoughtfully. “They make you feel younger.” They sat in silence for a moment, and Kingsley stood. “How about we go see what the witches are up to?” Arthur grunted, and they went into the Burrow.


	9. The Heirloom

Arthur lay awake most of the night, thinking about Ginny. He had decided to talk to her in the morning—he knew that Harry would be gone for the day—and the more he thought about the list of illegal magic, the more he realized it was silly to think that he could keep it from Molly. She was bound to find out, and it was wrong anyway to keep her in the dark about something so important. But he was unsure what to do about the birth control charms. So, at three-thirty in the morning, after endless tossing and turning, he lit a candle and woke Molly. After she finished grumbling about the hour, he showed her the notice from the Improper Use of Magic Office; next to the first “medical charm” he had written “birth control.”

To Arthur’s surprise, all Molly did was sigh and hand the parchment back with barely a glance at it.

“It’s what I expected,” she said. “They spend so much time off by themselves. How could we not expect something like this to happen? Although, so many . . .” She took the parchment back, counted the charms, and put her hand over her mouth to suppress a giggle. “Thank goodness they teach that at school. They certainly didn’t when we were there.”

Arthur snatched the notice back. “That’s fine,” he said peevishly, “but what do we do now?”

Molly shrugged. “What do you think we should do? What would _you_ do?”

“It can’t continue. They can’t use our house for this.”

“For what? Don’t you remember what we did when we were seventeen?”

“As I recall, we were _both_ seventeen.”

“That’s a technicality. The issue is . . .” She paused. “I don’t know, what is the issue? That it makes us uncomfortable? That it’s wrong? How can it be wrong for two young people who feel like they do, as long as they’re careful? I don’t know what the answer is, Arthur.”

“Well, the magic has to stop. At least admit to that.”

Molly pushed the covers back and sat on the edge of the bed. “Yes,” she said with her back to him, “I agree. It’s a violation of the law, and it’s embarrassing you. But,” she turned to face him, “we’ve known about it for weeks and haven’t done anything. If we don’t handle it right, she’ll just throw it back in our faces.” She got back into bed. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I was about to get up and make breakfast, so how can I know what I’m saying? I’m half asleep. It’s way too early or late or whatever it is to be talking about this.”

She lay down and yawned, looking thoughtfully at Arthur, who still had a small crease on his brow.

“There’s something about them, something different.” She put her hand on his. “I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s some kind of magic there. I don’t mean just the romantic kind. Ginny acts like a giddy teenage witch, but there’s a power underneath it. Sometimes it frightens me, but it’s a wonder to behold.” She squeezed his hand and pulled the covers up. “Dearest, she’s your own little witch, but now she’s about to become a grown-up witch, and someone else’s grown-up witch at that. I know how hard it is, believe me. I nursed her, I changed her nappies, I watched her grow. But just think of who she chose, and how happy she is.” She yawned again and, smiling, reached up and put her hand on Arthur’s cheek. “They make me feel good.”

Arthur put out the candle and sat in the dark, letting the images of Ginny that Molly had evoked run through his mind. He turned to her and was about to speak, but she was asleep.

He settled down and dozed until the sun came up. Molly awoke and went downstairs to make breakfast, and Arthur followed a few minutes later; Molly was clearing Ginny and Harry’s breakfast dishes. “They’re already outside,” Molly said as she dunked two small bowls in the sink. “He’s leaving.” She nodded towards the window over the sink and Arthur joined her.

Ginny and Harry were standing near the gate. Ginny had her hands on his chest, and Harry was holding a tiny silver cylinder that hung by a silver chain around his neck. He pressed the cylinder to his lips, closed his eyes and smiled. Ginny kissed him, and they talked for a moment; Harry said something that made Ginny grab his hands and jump up and down while her face broke into a gleeful grin.

Arthur turned from the window. “He’s wearing it,” he said to Molly as he sat. He took the notice from his shirt pocket, placed it on the table, and looked up. Molly was watching him. “I don’t know what to do,” he muttered.

“You’ll do the right thing. You always do.” Arthur smiled wanly and gave her hand an appreciative pat as she sat next to him. The minutes passed and they waited silently for Ginny to come inside. He gazed at the door, and remembered the first time he had shown the silver cylinder to Ginny, almost seventeen years ago . . .

The little cylinder was an ancient and magical heirloom, the Bouquedelle of the Weasley family. It had been passed to Arthur from his father, and he had given it to Ginny, as was the tradition, on the day she was born. He had put it, along with the other family heirlooms that would be hers, in a magical chest that was kept under her crib and later under her bed. It was to be worn by her beloved, but only when they were separated, and whenever he pressed it to his lips, it gave off her unique scent. Since no female had been born into the family for hundreds of years, the Bouquedelle had not been used for scores of generations, and it carried no scent since the aroma always faded away upon the death of its wearer.  
  
When Ginny was seven, Arthur took the Bouquedelle from its chest and explained to his daughter that some day she would gift it to the love of her life, and he would keep it with him always, to remind him of her when she was not near. She held it up to the light, letting it swing back and forth on its chain. "What if I never fall in love, Daddy?" she asked.  
  
He smiled. "You will, darling, and whoever the lucky wizard is will have no choice. His heart will be bewitched, and you will give him this and he'll be yours forever. And you will be his forever." They solemnly put the silver cylinder and its chain back into the chest and put the chest back under her bed. Then, seven years later, when Ginny was fourteen and about to leave for her fourth year at Hogwarts, Arthur told her to take it out again.  
  
"It's yours now, to do with as you please," he said. "Remember, it will be your true love's until he dies, and then it will come back to the family, and it will be passed on to the next Weasley daughter."

Ginny examined the heirloom, turning it over and holding it up to the light; she had not looked at it since putting it away seven years ago. It was made of loosely woven, finely filigreed silver threads that bent slightly when she pressed them between her thumb and forefinger. The threads were flexible, yet the cylinder kept its shape even when the threads were bent. Through the threads she could see the pink stone that filled the space inside.

So Ginny put the Bouquedelle in her dresser drawer and left it there almost three more years, and the day after she and Harry came home from Shell Cottage at the end of June she went to her room and opened the dresser. The Bouquedelle was lying on top of a tangled pile of brassieres, and Ginny stared at it for a moment, certain that she had left it _under_ the bras. She picked it up and swung it on its chain; it flashed in the sunlight coming through her window. She watched it swing for a moment, closed the drawer and went to find her father.

  
He was sitting near the garden reading the _Daily Prophet_ , and looked up when Ginny stood in front of him. "What is it, honey?" he asked, putting down the paper. She glanced around to make sure no one was watching, and opened her hand to show him the Bouquedelle. Arthur leaned forward and looked at her closely. "I've been wondering when you would bring it to me. Ginny, I have to ask you this. Are you absolutely certain? The magic won't work unless you are."

"I've never been anything _but_ certain, Daddy," she replied. "I want to give it to him on his birthday.”

Arthur looked at her intently and she met his gaze. Finally he smiled and held out his hand. "I'll take care of it. It will only take a day or two." She passed it to him and, without thinking, jumped into his lap and hugged him tightly. He laughed and patted her back. "Let's go find your mum. We need a few strands of your hair."

Molly was alone in the kitchen. She looked up from the bowl of vegetables she was washing in the sink, and beamed at Ginny when Arthur held up the Bouquedelle on its chain. "Darling!" She wiped her hands on a towel that flew from a hook on the wall. "Are you sure? Oh, silly question!" She threw the towel down and pulled Ginny into a smothering hug. "Come, I'll cut a lock of your hair. Oh my, this is wonderful. We've been talking about it for a year, at least. Some good news at last. Just wonderful!"

She bustled up the stairs, pushing Ginny ahead of her into the bedroom while Arthur trailed after. Molly took a pair of scissors from her sewing chest and, as Ginny held up the hair at the back of her neck, snipped off a few strands at the root. She held them up, bright red and silky, then twirled them tightly around her finger and put them into a little brass box that she retrieved from a jewelry case on her dressing table. She snapped the box shut and handed it to Ginny.

"This is so important to your father," she said, glancing at Arthur. "I know you realize that, Ginny, but your Bouquedelle has not been used for hundreds of years. This is a very special moment for the Weasley family." Ginny hugged her.

Arthur took the silver cylinder and the brass box to the Ministry the next day, and when he gave the Bouquedelle back to Ginny two days later, the pink stone inside was darker, almost red, and the cylinder was slightly heavier. Ginny put it back in her dresser—under the bras—and left it there.

Two months later, on July thirty-first, as the sun was rising, Ginny tip-toed up to Harry’s room, quietly went inside, and awoke him with a kiss. He sat up with a start when he saw her. “Happy birthday. Get dressed,” she said and giggled at his obvious disappointment. She waited for him on the landing, and when he came out she led him outside and down to a small clearing in the woods near the river that was enclosed by thickets of yew; it was one of the many places in which they had spent hours together, hidden from the world. She gave him the Bouquedelle while they sat on the short grass facing each other.

Harry started to put the chain around his neck, but Ginny put her hand on his and stopped him.

"No, it's only for when I'm not with you. Put it to your lips, you'll see."

Somewhat self-consciously, Harry pressed the cylinder to his mouth; he drew back, startled, as Ginny's magical fragrance—the one he had first inhaled in a Potions class two years ago—filled the air of the little clearing. He held the cylinder up and looked at Ginny in wonder.

She leaned towards him. "This is yours to keep forever."

"It's going to torture me. Whenever I smell that, I want you."

"Do you now?" Her eyes bright, she leaned back on her hands and Harry came to her. "Happy birthday," Ginny murmured into his ear as he put his hand behind her back and lowered her to the grass.

The sun was higher, sending flittering beams of light through the branches of the trees that sheltered them. They were lying on their backs listening to the wind in the leaves. Harry fingered the Bouquedelle, rolling the cylinder between his thumb and finger. "Where did it come from?" he asked.

Ginny told him how it had been in her family for generations, and how it had become hers. "It's yours for the rest of your life. Then it comes back to the family until the next girl is born."

"What if you have a daughter?" He gave her a suggestive grin.

"No. It goes through the male line. If one of my brothers has a daughter who isn't married when you . . . when you're gone, she'll get it."

"And she'll give it to . . .?"

"The love of her life."

Harry sat up. The breeze ruffled the hairs on his chest and Ginny reached up and ran her fingers through them. Harry took her hand and held it. "Is that what you did?" He leaned over her, his head haloed by the sun shining through an opening in the branches above them.

"Of course," Ginny smiled.

Now, on another early morning five days later, out in the yard, Ginny watched Harry walk through the gate and Disapparate. She whirled around, hugging herself and laughing. Not only was Harry wearing her Bouquedelle for the first time, he had told her that this was the last mysterious trip he would be making by himself. He had gone away every Wednesday for most of the summer, without telling her where. But next week, the day after her birthday, he would take her with him and give her his birthday present. And, she would be able to go without asking permission; she could Apparate there with Harry, she could fly there, she could do whatever she wanted. She felt a tingling, excited anticipation, and laughed aloud again.

Smiling happily, she walked back to the house, thinking that today would be a good time to start sorting her clothes for school to see what needed mending. She opened the kitchen door and saw her parents sitting at the table; her smile faded when she noticed the official-looking parchment in front of her father and the frown on his face. When she looked at him closely, she could tell that he had not gotten enough sleep.

She knew that the parchment had something to do with underage magic; he had yelled at her about it just yesterday. Her mind raced, and she thought back to the early summer, when in her stupidity she had done the birth control charms herself. But it didn’t matter; she didn’t care what they said, she was not going to stop loving Harry. She would be seventeen in six days, so what difference did it make? And from all the stories she had heard about her parents, they had certainly done the same thing when they were her age.

She stood in the doorway, waiting for them to speak, balling her fists and clenching her jaw, her eyes shifting from the parchment to her parents. The morning’s tide of joy had receded.

Her father passed his hand wearily over his eyes. “Ginny, I got this notice yesterday at work. It says you’ve committed sixty-one acts of illegal magic this summer—sixty-two, counting the Summoning spell yesterday evening. That’s got to stop.”

Ginny’s hands and jaw unclenched. Was that it? Maybe the birth control charms hadn’t registered before Harry started doing them. If that was all, then no big deal.

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll stop. I’m sorry, Dad, I didn’t mean to cause you trouble.”

Her father nodded. “I know you didn’t, honey. It wasn’t really any trouble. But . . .” He looked down at the parchment, and Ginny’s insides flipped. “There are some spells on this list that your mum and I have to ask you about.”

Ginny swallowed and looked from one to the other. Her jaw tightened again, and she felt her temper rising. “Harry and I are in love,” she said defiantly, “and we’re not going to stop. It’s none of your business, anyway.”

Arthur scowled. “It’s our house and it’s our business, Ginny. You may not do—”

“We never did anything in the house!” she yelled. “What do you think we are, stupid?”

Molly spoke for the first time. “Ginny, that’s the last thing anyone thinks of you.”

“Then let me make up my own mind! Why are Harry and I different from you and Dad before you were married?” Her eyes flashed at them.

They were silent, and Ginny started to turn away and go back outside.

“Ginny!” her father said sharply. She stopped; it was rare to hear him speak that way. She turned back, subdued, and was surprised to see him looking at her calmly. “You’re not different.”

Ginny’s temper evaporated; she did not know what to say. Her father took the parchment from the table, rolled it up, and stood. “I got about two hours sleep last night,” he said to Molly. “I’m going back to bed. If I get any owls from work, write back that I’ll be in later.” He paused on the stairs and pointed his finger at Ginny. “No magic.”

After he left, Ginny came and sat across the table from her mother. Ginny waited, feeling awkward and embarrassed, but Molly just looked at her with a gentle smile.

“I’m sorry, Mum,” she finally said as her eyes brimmed. “I love him so much, I can’t help myself. When we’re—you know—together, I feel like the whole world is lit up and I’m holding the sun in my hands. I can’t explain it and I don’t really understand it.”

“I do, darling,” Molly whispered; she couldn’t control her own voice. She reached across the table and took Ginny’s hands, and both of them had tears running down their faces.


	10. The Inn

Harry Apparated in a small field behind The Hog’s Head Inn. Off to his right was Dervish and Banges’ magical equipment shop. Beyond it the High Street ran down through the village to Hogsmeade Station. Behind him and to his left stretched a cleared, fenced-in field, and beyond it the orchards and meadows of nearby wizarding farms.

He looked up at the back of the inn. The trim had been painted a bold red, and the walls were freshly whitewashed. Sitting on the ground, leaning against the wall off to one side, was the gruesome sign with the bloody hog’s head that had hung over the front door. When he had bought the inn the goblins asked if he intended to rename it, and he answered that he wasn’t sure, but no matter what, he would be getting rid of the sign. They asked for it, and he told them they were welcome to it. They hadn’t removed it yet, so there it sat.

Harry had been coming to the inn once a week all summer, directing the changes he had ordered, which were extensive. He wanted to create a bright, friendly, cheery place where he could bring Ginny, a place that she would want to come to. He knew what she liked: cozy rooms, fireplaces, friends about her. He had kept the image of her foremost in his mind while the walls were being stripped and re-paneled, while a real floor was laid, while new furnishings and a new bar with an ornate mirror behind it were installed, and while crystal chandeliers with hundreds of candles were hung. It would be a place of light and camaraderie; Ron and Hermione would visit often, and maybe it would even become the post-war headquarters of Dumbledore’s Army.

Harry stepped through the back door and found Tony Trostle—the wizard contractor he had hired to do the work—putting finishing touches to the kitchen. Tony was broad-chested and muscular, with a large, black handlebar mustache and a head of bushy black hair. He was directing hammers that were pounding brackets into the walls of the fireplace from which the cooking cauldrons would hang.

“‘Morning, Harry,” Tony called over the clanging hammers. “The cauldrons got delivered two days ago. They’re in the back cupboard. I’ll have ‘em all hung before lunch.”

Harry nodded and looked around. He saw spiffy new counter tops, stoves, shelves, racks of utensils, a large sink, and other kitchen accouterments. He walked around, inspecting knives, opening drawers, running his hand across marble cutting boards. Tony was a proud craftsman; he took his time and he supervised his workers carefully, and it showed in the final result. “This is all beautiful, Tony,” Harry said.

“Did you find a cook yet?” Tony asked as the hammers flew through the air and slipped neatly into the loops on his belt. He pulled on the bracket in the fireplace; it held securely and he turned to Harry. “We’re just about done in here. Carlos found some loose flashing around the middle chimney, he’s up there now taking care of it. We had a thunderstorm come through on Sunday and it leaked into the attic a bit. Nothing serious, though.”

Tony liked to hire workers who had recently immigrated to England; his wife had come to the country from South America, and Tony felt a kinship with people who were experiencing in a new land what she had gone through. His current crew were mostly from Argentina. Harry found them interesting, although he knew no Spanish and they spoke little English. When Tony wasn’t around to translate they communicated with gestures and smiles. They had all heard of Harry Potter, though, and Tony told him they all considered it an honor to work for him.

“No, no cook yet, or barkeep, either,” Harry replied to Tony’s question.

He left Tony in the kitchen and went up the back stairs to the flat on the second floor, where he would live. The stairway led to the door of the flat, which opened into the sitting room; it was in this space that Harry, Hermione, and Ron had spoken to Aberforth Dumbledore after they had Apparated into Hogsmeade just before the battle. But that shabby room had been transformed. A large fireplace now faced the door, and across from it, to Harry’s left, a large picture window looked out over the field in back. The walls were paneled in lightly stained walnut, and a new hardwood floor was laid. The portrait of Ariana Dumbledore was gone; Aberforth had taken it with him when he vacated the inn. In its place was a landscape showing the Black Lake with Hogwarts Castle in the background. The tunnel leading to the Room of Retirement was also gone; Harry, with magical help from Tony and Professor McGonagall, had permanently closed it.

Harry had spent a lot of money on the fireplace. He had sneaked out a photo of the one in the Burrow’s parlor, and Tony had used it to design and build this one. The only difference between the two was the mantelpiece. The one in the Burrow was discolored with decades of soot and candle drippings, and was gouged with dozens of scratches and dents. This one was a smooth and polished slab of oak, stained a rich dark brown that glowed when the room was lit by candlelight. Harry couldn’t wait to show it to Ginny. He was going to put a love seat in front of it, just the right size for two people to snuggle in.

Next to the fireplace a smaller casement window opened over the front of the inn. To its left was a door into the bedroom which had its own fireplace. And today Harry would move the bed in. It was a surplus four-poster from Gryffindor Tower in mint condition; it had been ordered for the castle a year ago but had never been used because so many Muggle-born students had been expelled or never showed up. The canopy coverings and the hangings were a deep velvety red with threads of gold running through them. Professor McGonagall was perfectly willing to sell it to Harry, especially after the thrifty Scotswitch heard his offer. But Harry still had to put up with Argus Filch’s scowls and muttering while he Levitated the unassembled bed out of its storage locker and into the Great Hall, where it would be out of the way until he brought it to the inn.

At the other end of the parlor was a door to the kitchen, a smallish affair with a stove, fireplace, sink, some cupboards, and a small table. Harry intended to take most of his meals in the dining room downstairs, but he anticipated late night snacks and late breakfasts on the weekends when he had company.

He wandered around the flat, admiring Tony’s detail work and testing the water supplies in the kitchen and bathroom, which was located off the bedroom. He found himself looking out the picture window and day-dreaming about lazy weekends in the flat with Ginny. He fingered the Bouquedelle inside his shirt and was about to take it out, when a wizard in work clothes floated down past the window and waved at him. It was Carlos, who had finished patching the roof and was descending with the help of Wingardium Leviosa from Tony, standing on the ground below.

Harry went downstairs and out back, and spoke briefly to Tony about the arrival of the bed. He walked back through the inn, out the front door, and proceeded down the High Street to the Three Broomsticks.

Madam Rosmerta had been helping him organize the business end of things, showing him how to order supplies, plan meals, and all the other little details that had never occurred to him when he got the inspiration to buy the inn. He found those details exceedingly tedious; he just wanted to wave his wand and have all the food and drinks and settings appear on the tables. At first Rosmerta had been sympathetic, but after a while, when Harry’s mind kept wandering from the task, she began scolding him, telling him that if he wanted to run a business he would have to do some work, even if it was boring.

Harry had tried. He told himself that it was for Ginny, and for a time that was sufficient motivation. But soon his interest in all those annoying, grubby little details flagged again, and Rosmerta yelled at him again, and Harry tried once again to apply himself. So it went for several weeks, Harry’s interest and energy rising and falling, until finally Rosmerta had told him, two weeks ago, to leave her alone until he decided what he really wanted.

In desperation, Harry went to the only businessman he knew, George Weasley. He told him in confidence about the inn and his problems getting it set up, and George was only too happy to help. Firstly, he was eternally grateful beyond measure for Harry’s gift of the Triwizard gold; and secondly, he and Fred had kept their eyes on the old Zonko’s shop, so anything that might attract customers to Hogsmeade, like another decent inn, would make a joke shop there more likely to succeed. George suspected that Harry’s real motivation was to be close to Ginny, and that also pleased him.

Last week George had met Harry at the inn, and by the end of the morning Harry had acquired a large, leather-bound ledger book from Scrivenshaft’s with neatly labeled columns for income and expenses; a meal plan for the first month; and a list of contacts in Diagon Alley and other wizarding shopping districts who could sell him the supplies he needed. They ate lunch at the Three Broomsticks, and when Harry showed Rosmerta the ledger book and the meal plan, she relented and offered to help him find a barkeep and a cook.

So now Harry was on his way to meet the friend of one of Rosmerta’s waitresses who had worked in a tavern, and also a local witch who was looking for work and was interested in becoming Harry’s cook. The Three Broomsticks was almost empty, and Harry saw Rosmerta sitting at a table with two other witches. She waved him over and he greeted her and one of the witches, her waitress Harriet Smythe.

Rosmerta cleared her throat. “Harry, this is Turquoise Southeby,” and indicated the third witch sitting across the table. He turned to her; she was young, maybe a few years older than him, blond, very pretty, and was wearing a frilly blouse cut a little too low around the neckline for the occasion, in Harry’s opinion. But she took a deep breath, in and out, and smiled, and Harry had to reconsider the neckline and its purpose.

“Hello,” he said, trying to be friendly despite his instinct, which was to tell her to get lost. “I’ve seen you in Hogsmeade before, haven’t I?”

Turquoise nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, and of course I’ve seen you, Harry.” She giggled. “Madam Rosmerta told me you’re looking for a cook at your inn. It’s just beautiful, what you’ve turned it into. It looks very inviting on the inside.” She giggled again. “I haven’t been in it, of course, but I’ve peeked through the windows. Everyone has.” She fluttered her eyelashes and smiled.

Harry didn’t know how to deal with her, although her demeanor was very familiar; he had gone through many periods at Hogwarts, before he and Ginny started dating, when gaggles of girls would stare, giggle, and whisper as he walked past in the hallways and even in the Gryffindor common room. Their looks and behavior were identical to this witch’s. He did not want to be rude, but he wanted nothing to do with her. She might be a good cook, but he wouldn’t be able to stand her for five minutes, and he would not consider for five seconds what an insult it would be to Ginny if he hired her.

“Well,” he said, and turned to Rosmerta for help. She saw immediately his look of dislike.

“Turquoise, what Harry is saying is that he has a few more people he wants to talk to before he decides who to hire. He’ll be getting back to you, won’t you, Harry?”

“Oh, sure.” He turned to Turquoise. “I’ll let you know, but it’ll be a few more weeks till I decide.” He tried to sound pleasant, but he wished she would just leave.

Turquoise looked at him for a moment and brightened. “That’s great, Harry. I can wait. And thank you for talking to me, I really enjoyed it.” She stood and curtseyed, which looked strange in jeans that were a size too small. At the lowest point of her dip she leaned forward and Harry couldn’t help but notice the large amount of cleavage on display. She glanced up at him and smiled sweetly, nodded to Rosmerta, and left.

“I’m sorry about that,” Rosmerta said to Harry after they watched Turquoise sway her tightly clad hips out the door. “I knew her parents. She worked in a hotel restaurant in York until this summer, and I thought she might be able to help. Obviously not, at least not in the kitchen.”

“I remember seeing her on Hogsmeade weekends,” Harry said. “She is kind of noticeable. What does she do here?”

Rosmerta frowned. “That’s another reason I thought you might be interested in hiring her. Her parents were killed during the first war when she was a couple of years old. They got caught in a cross-fire. Incidental non-combatant damage, the Ministry called it. More like Ministry stupidity, if you ask me. She had older relatives who took her in, and they retired here a couple of years ago, but they died last year and she’s lived alone ever since.”

Harry shook his head. “I’m sorry to hear that. Maybe if she wasn’t so . . . so . . . “

“So obvious?”

“Yeah. I guess I still need a cook.”

The whole business with the Southeby witch had been unpleasant. He disliked the fawning attention that strange females tried to pay him, and this one didn’t act as if she would give it up so easily. It made him a little angry, because he knew that it would upset Ginny if the witch started showing up at the inn and behaving the way she did just now. It was aggravation he didn’t need.

“Well.” Rosmerta glanced at Harriet who had sat silently through Turquoise’s interview. “Harriet has a friend who needs a job. He worked at the Leaky Cauldron for a while, and, well, you know him. We told him there might be a . . . a problem, but he wanted to see you, and . . . and, well, please, just hear him out.”

Harry was puzzled as he listened to Rosmerta’s stammering, and he noticed Harriet, who he knew fairly well by now, fidgeting in her seat. “Who is it?” he asked.

Harriet stood and went to the kitchen door behind the bar. She gestured inside and a moment later a lanky, pale-faced wizard, holding a tattered cap in his hands emerged. Harry did a double-take when he recognized Stan Shunpike.

Stan looked down at the floor, but after a moment raised his head and looked at Harry. He did not have the blank, Imperiused expression that Harry had seen last year in the skies over the English countryside, but Stan was frightened. He quickly averted his eyes, glanced at Harriet, looked down again and started twisting his cap in his hands.

Harry rose and walked quickly to him. There was no question in his mind that Stan had been under Voldemort’s control, and the Ministry must also be certain of that, otherwise Stan would be in prison, not standing here.

Harry put his hand on Stan’s arm. “How are you, Stan.”

Stan looked up. “‘Arry, I’m sorry. I never would ‘ave done that to you, but they put an Unforgivable Curse on me. I—I couldn’t ‘elp it. I’m sorry.” He lowered his eyes again.

Harry took Stan’s shoulders. “You don’t have to apologize to me. You didn’t get hurt when I shot that spell at you, did you?”

Stan shook his head. “No, but when you did it, they knew it was you and not one of those decoys, ‘cause you didn’t kill me. Maybe you should ‘ave.”

“No, never! I could tell you were Imperiused. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Harry,” Rosmerta called from the table; both men turned. “There was something else. They had Harriet. They told Stan they would kill her if he didn’t cooperate.”

Harry gazed at Harriet and touched the Bouquedelle under his shirt. What would he have done if Voldemort had taken Ginny?

He took Stan’s arm again and led him to the table. Stan sat.

“‘Arry, they were using everyone who might ‘ave some kind of connection to you. They knew you tried to get me out of Azkaban so they figured we were mates. Then they found out that me and ‘Arriet were . . . good friends, and they . . . they kept ‘er locked up in a cellar somewhere and wouldn’t let me see ‘er.”

“It was a nightmare for everyone,” Harry said, “but it’s over.” Harriet took Stan’s hand and he bowed his head.

“You worked at the Leaky Cauldron?” Harry asked.

“For three years, before I started on the Bus. Tom’ll tell you I was the best barman ‘e ever ‘ad.”

“I don’t need Tom’s word. If you have the experience, the job at the Hog’s Head is yours.” Harry smiled at Stan; half of his staffing problem was solved. Something had gone right, and he had a barkeep who he liked and who would be working with him for more than just a paycheck. Stan and Harriet grinned at each other, and Harry’s smile grew wider when he saw the look between them.

His next task for the day was to get the bed to the inn. He thanked Rosmerta and bid her and Harriet goodbye, and asked Stan if he wanted to come with him to the castle. Stan eagerly accepted; he had never been inside Hogwarts, although he had seen it from the gates many times when he worked on the Knight Bus.

They left The Three Broomsticks, passed the train station, and walked up the lane to the castle. Stan didn’t speak, but gawked at the soaring towers and pitched roofs, at the hundreds of gargoyles perched everywhere. All the damage from last spring’s battle was repaired, and the castle stood intact and solid against the blue sky. Harry saw the awe on Stan’s face, and thought to himself that it _was_ an impressive sight, one that he might have come to take for granted over the years. He could remember his own open-mouthed wonder when he had first set eyes on it.

They climbed the steps and came into the entrance hall. Stan’s head swiveled as he tried to take it all in. “I never saw anything like it,” he finally said. “I wish I could ‘ave come ‘ere to study, but it didn’t seem to work out somehow.” Harry didn’t ask why. He knew there were funds available for students whose families couldn’t afford tuition and expenses, so it probably meant that Stan didn’t come because of family problems, or maybe inability—academic or magical. But it didn’t matter, and Harry wasn’t about to pry into Stan’s personal life.

They walked up the stairs to the Headmistress’s office. The portraits all turned to look as they passed, and many greeted Harry. In front of the office Harry called out, “Firth of Forth!” and the gargoyle sprang aside. Stan was a little shaky on the spiral staircase and seemed glad when they reached the top. Harry knocked on the massive door and they entered.

Over the summer Professor McGonagall had begun to transform the office into a place more to her own taste, and things were taking on a tartan motif. The furniture and rugs, the crossed swords and shields decorating the walls, and many of the portraits—aside from the former Heads—all lent a Scottish flavor to the room. Most of Professor Dumbledore’s tiny silver objects and whistling devices were gone. In their place were many of the objects that Harry recognized from the Transfiguration classroom: assorted tea cups, match boxes, goblets, and several live cats sleeping on tables and chairs—including a gray tabby stretched out in the middle of McGonagall’s large, mahogany desk.

The cat was purring contentedly on top of a parchment that the Headmistress was trying to extricate from underneath it as Harry and Stan came in. Harry also noticed that the cabinet in which Professor Dumbledore kept his Pensieve was still there, and he could see a silvery glow around the edges of the cabinet doors. The Sorting Hat was still perched on top of a cabinet, inside which lay the sword of Godric Gryffindor, its inlaid rubies sparkling in a beam of sunlight streaming in a high window.

The Headmistress, sitting behind her desk pulling at the parchment, smiled at them over her square spectacles. “Are you here to take your bed, Mr. Potter?”

“Yes, Professor. And this is Stan Shunpike. He’s working for me at the inn now. I just hired him.”

“Welcome to Hogwarts, Mr. Shunpike.” McGonagall extended her hand and Stan took it, but quickly let go, totally overwhelmed by the office and its contents. McGonagall continued. “Most of us were very upset about your incarceration and your misadventures with Tom Riddle, and it’s good to see you well. You’ll be moving up north?”

Stan nodded and visibly relaxed at McGonagall’s friendliness. “Yes, ma’am. I understand it gets cold up here,” he said without a trace of his accent, and Harry smiled to himself when he heard Stan speak.

“That it does,” agreed the Headmistress. “But from what I hear about your employer’s work on the inn, you will be quite snug there.” She smiled at him again and turned to Harry. “The bed is where you left it. Will you be needing an elf to help you?”

“That’s what I was planning,” Harry replied. “Kreacher is here, and he was going to handle all the arrangements.”

“You may find him a little preoccupied at the moment. It seems that one of the other house-elves had a breakdown of some kind, and Kreacher has been caring for her since none of the others will.”

Harry knew that it must be Winky, and felt a twinge of annoyance; if Kreacher could not help out today, he would have to find another elf. This was part of the pattern: every other day of the week was always smooth with nothing but an occasional insect bite to annoy him. But every Wednesday brought a fresh irritation, even if something good also happened, like finding Stan. All he wanted was a cozy place to bring Ginny, where they could be together, but there always seemed to be an obstacle, or at least an irritation.

He frowned and started to leave, but caught the expression on Stan’s face as he was taking a last look around at the wonders of the room. He paused, and an idea came into his head. It was completely unrelated to the problem at hand, but he knew it would please Stan. He leaned across the reclining cat and beckoned to Professor McGonagall. He whispered in her ear, and she nodded. “It will be done by the time you get there,” she smiled. “Good day to you, Mr. Shunpike, good luck with your new employer. And I will be seeing you from time to time, I’m sure, Harry.”

Harry nodded. “That’s right. I’ll be taking private lessons from Professor Flitwick once a week.”

“I was thinking more of your friend in her seventh year, actually. But I know Filius is looking forward to the lessons. Well, good day.”

As they made their way to the Great Hall, Stan gawked at the portraits, suits of armor, and moving tapestries. Harry paused at the doors to the Hall and grinned at Stan. “Look up at the ceiling,” he told him.

He pushed the doors open and Stan gasped as he gazed upward at the enchanted ceiling, which Harry had asked Professor McGonagall to activate. Stan gaped at the deep blue sky and white clouds sailing across. “That’s beautiful,” he murmured.

“It shows the weather outside,” Harry explained. “No need even to look out the window. Very convenient.”

Stan nodded. “Beautiful,” he repeated.

To the side of the door was a neat stack of bed parts: head- and footboards, slats, side rails, posts, box spring, mattress, canopy, and hangings. Next to it stood Kreacher. As he bowed to Harry, he cast a nervous glance at the bed. Harry looked and saw, lying on the edge of the box spring which was leaning against the wall, the rumpled form of another house-elf. He recognized Winky, asleep, snoring loudly, with one arm dangling down the side of the box spring.

Harry frowned at the sleeping form. “Hello, Kreacher. Has she been drinking again?”

The elf sighed. “Kreacher must say yes, Harry Potter. Winky has learned that two nieces of her former master, Mr. Barty Crouch, will be starting this year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Kreacher is afraid that Winky still is wanting to be taken back by that family.”

There was a loud hiccup, and one of Winky’s large, brown, bloodshot eyes opened. Harry's frown deepened. “Winky, what are you doing up there?”

She hiccupped again, closed her eye, rolled over, and with a shriek fell off the box spring and thudded to the floor. Harry, Kreacher, and Stan rushed to her. They helped her sit, and Winky looked hazily at Harry with her eyes crossed. He took out his wand and pointed it at the large, egg-shaped lump forming on top of her head. He muttered the charm he had learned from Ginny for healing bruises, hoping it would have the same effect on a house-elf’s lumpy noggin.

Winky rubbed her eyes and her head. When she took her hand away the lump was gone. She smiled at Harry and hiccupped again.

“Thanks you, Parry Hotter. Harry Pro- Plo- Potter is too kind to Winky, and she . . .” Her eyes closed and she began snoring again, still in a sitting position but slowly sinking down into a green heap, hiccupping between snores.

Kreacher sighed again. “Poor Winky. Kreacher does not know what will become of her.”

But Harry had been thinking, and a wild idea had occurred to him. “Kreacher, she has to get away from Hogwarts or she’ll just drink herself to death. Do you think she would come work for me?”

Winky snapped to a sitting position, her eyes wide open, and everyone jumped back. She hiccupped once and pulled herself up next to the box spring until she was standing more or less erect. She swayed forward and backward, pushed herself away from the box spring, and fell against Harry, peering up at him, clutching his jeans to keep herself upright.

“Winky will come with Sparry Spotter . . . Potter, and be his house-elf, if Sp- Spa- if he wants her.” She stood up straight and let go of his leg. “Winky is the best cook at Hogwarts!” she shouted at the enchanted ceiling, then fell backwards into the box spring and slid down to the floor. Her eyes closed and she began snoring again, but now quietly; a tiny smile was on her lips.

Harry stared at her for a moment; he looked at Stan who was gaping at the house-elf with his mouth hanging open. Harry smiled at the expression. “What do you think? She’s really quite sane when she isn’t drinking. Do you think you could work with her?”

Stan nodded, although he was still bemused. “Sure, why not? I never ‘ad problems with ‘ouse-elfs on the Bus. Good folk, if you ask me.”

Harry felt very satisfied; this had worked out perfectly. He had got his staff for the inn with almost no effort on his part. Maybe this would turn out to be a trouble-free Wednesday, after all. He turned to Kreacher.

“Let her sleep it off, and when she wakes up tell her to go to the inn and fix a place for herself wherever she wants. We’ll set up something permanent next week when I come with Ginny. I’ll go talk to Professor McGonagall now. I’m sure there won’t be a problem with her leaving the school.”

“Uh, ‘arry.” Stan had a somewhat concerned look. “What about that Turquoise bird? She won’t be ‘appy about losing ‘er job to a house-elf.”

Harry frowned; he had completely forgotten about the tart. “That’s her damn problem. I never promised her anything.” Stan looked skeptical, but said no more.

Kreacher cleared his throat, and Harry turned, fighting down the irritation that Stan’s remark had evoked. The elf was peering up, looking very serious. “What is it?” Harry asked, sensing trouble.

“Does Harry Potter know what he has done? Winky is now Harry Potter’s house-elf. That is why she sleeps so peacefully. Mr. Barty Crouch’s family is no longer her master. Harry Potter is now her master.”

Harry turned again and stared at Winky. She was stretched out on her side, her hands tucked under her cheek, her breathing coming in a slow, steady rhythm. Harry swore. “I don’t want another house-elf. I want a cook. Kreacher, tell her she is _working_ for me. She is _not_ my house-elf.”

Kreacher shook his head. “No, Harry Potter, there was only one elf who worked for wizards and witches, because he wanted to, your friend Dobby.” He spoke the name with evident distaste. “Winky does not want to work for someone, she wants to be Harry Potter’s house-elf. She _is_ Harry Potter’s house-elf.”

Harry raised his eyes to the ceiling, ran both hands through his hair, and shook his head. _Why can’t it be simple?_ He looked at Winky and sighed and turned to Stan.

“Well, we have an inn-elf now. Help Kreacher get the bed ready, if you don’t mind. He’ll show you what to do, you won’t have to lift anything. I’ll go talk to McGonagall about this one.” He looked at Winky and sighed again. “All I bloody want is a place for me and my girlfriend to live,” he muttered as he walked out the door. Stan and Kreacher could hear him grumbling as he walked away.

Kreacher piled the bed parts in a neat stack, first lifting Winky and moving her onto one of the dining tables, where she continued to snore peacefully. Stan offered to help, but Kreacher ignored him and produced a large rug out of thin air, which he flung over the bed. He walked to Winky’s table and sat on the bench.

Stan joined him. “You’ve been ‘Arry’s mate for a long time, aincha?” he asked. “I knew ‘im since ‘is third year ‘ere. ‘e’s quite a bloke, ain’t ‘e?”

Kreacher glanced at him, but looked away without answering.

“You really ‘elped ‘im, they say,” Stan continued. “You ought to be right proud of that.”

“We is.” Kreacher looked up at Stan with narrowed eyes for a moment, got up from the table and went back to the pile of bed parts and put the slats, which had been leaning against the wall, on top of the box spring. He went back to the table, and he and Stan sat silently for ten minutes until Harry returned.

“It’s done,” he announced. “She can come as soon as she wants.” He peered at the sleeping elf. “Tell her there’s no rush. I’m not planning to open until school starts.”

He took out his wand. “Ready? Get the doors. I don’t want to try opening them while I’m holding this bed up in the air.” He flicked his wand and the bed parts rose and the rug wrapped itself snugly around them. Harry directed it with the wand and it moved towards the door, which Stan had opened. The large bundle sped across the entrance hall ahead of Kreacher and crashed loudly into the large oak doors. “Whoops!” called Harry, running after it. “This wand . . . It doesn’t take much . . .” He grinned at Stan as Kreacher rushed to open the doors.

The package floated down the drive and through the gates, followed by Harry, Stan, and Kreacher. The procession went down the lane, across the train tracks, and up the High Street through Hogsmeade. People stepped outside to watch, grinning at each other when they recognized what was under the rug. Harry ignored them and directed the bed around to the back door of the inn, where he set it down on the grass. “We’ll carry it up from here,” he said. “I don’t want to take a chance on damaging anything.”

They brought the parts up to the bedroom one at a time. When they had assembled it Harry stood back and smiled; he knew that Ginny would love it. He touched the Bouquedelle inside his shirt and, blushing, glanced at Stan and Kreacher.

“Uh, okay guys, thanks a lot. Why don’t we go downstairs? You can start figuring out how you want to set things up,” he said to Stan, ushering them out of the bedroom and down the stairs.

Loud clanking noises and shouts suddenly sounded from the kitchen. They looked in and saw Winky and Tony contesting a cauldron, whose handle was banging against its side as each tried to wrestle it away from the other.

“You is not the cook!” shouted Winky. “Let Winky have it!”

Tony looked up and saw Harry. “She says you own her,” he said, holding off Winky who was now trying to beat him with a ladle. “But I never saw her before.”

“Winky! Stop!” Harry and Kreacher both called at the same time.

“She is my elf,” Harry said to Tony, now thinking that maybe Winky’s entertainment value might outweigh the trouble of owning another house-elf. “Winky, this is my contractor, Tony. Let him finish setting up the kitchen, then it’s all yours.”

Winky yanked the ladle away and stomped into the open fireplace where she sat with her arms folded, scowling at Tony.

“Sorry,” Harry said to him. “She’s a little temperamental.” He glared at her but she returned the glare and smacked the ladle against her palm. Harry sighed and turned to the others.

“I’ve had a long day, and I need to get home. I’ll be back next week with, uh, with Ginny, so . . .” He blushed again, “so I’ll see you then. Just do whatever you feel like doing around here today, okay?”

Stan, Kreacher, and also Winky looked at him uncertainly, but Harry was now ready to leave. At the moment he didn’t want to think about what needed to happen at the inn, or whether it would be ready to open on time, or anything else. It didn’t take much to start him missing Ginny, and seeing the bed in the bedroom had done the trick. He hesitated, though, when he saw his new employees looking at him strangely. “Well, just take the week off, then. We’ll worry about it later.”

“Okay, ‘Arry,” said Stan. “I’ll be moving up ‘ere over the weekend. ‘arriet’s putting me up in ‘er folks’ ‘ouse until I get a place of my own.”

“Fine. Sounds great.”

Stan nodded to Tony and left through the dining room. Kreacher bowed to Harry and vanished with a loud crack. Winky lay down in the fireplace, curled up, and started snoring.

Tony hung the cauldron on a hook next to the fireplace and picked up a toolbelt from the counter. “I have a couple of things to take care of in the dining room,” he said, grinning at Harry. “You go on home. Someone’s waiting for you.”

“Right.” Harry’s mind was already on dinner at the Burrow, Ginny, and wandering around the countryside with her on a warm summer’s evening. He went out the back door and turned to take a final look at his inn before Disapparating.

He froze, staring at a spot above the door. His heart hammered and he couldn’t seem to get enough air into his lungs. “Tony!” he shouted, and drew his wand. “Come here!”

Tony appeared in the doorway, and for an instant stared at Harry’s wand. He took a step out the door and turned to see what Harry was pointing the wand at. There, in black paint on the newly whitewashed wall, was the image of a skull with a snake emerging from its mouth. The carpenter gasped. “Harry, that’s . . . that’s . . .”

“The Dark Mark,” Harry said in a low growl. “ _Scourgify!_ ” The Mark vanished.


	11. Hearts and Lips

Harry stared at the blank spot above the door and took a deep breath, trying to control his anger and a roil of emotions such as he had not felt since Fenrir Greyback’s supposed escape from Azkaban. He had wanted to forget what it was like to feel the weight of foreboding, dread, uncertainty, fear. That was all supposed to be done with, finished. Riddle was gone and all of his followers either dead themselves or in prison. Kingsley Shacklebolt was Minister for Magic, trying to create a world where people felt safe and free. Harry had just spent two months being totally happy for the first time in his life; he did not want it to end and he had never thought it would.

He lowered his wand and tried to think. The Mark must have been put there after they had moved all the bed parts upstairs, since either Stan, Kreacher, or he would have noticed it. The Mark itself, now that he thought about it, was crude; it was drawn on the wall, not etched into the stone or the lintel or burned into the door. It was high enough that it most likely had been put there by magic, by someone using a wand, not by being painted by hand. But why didn’t they conjure it into the air above the inn, as Death Eaters always did during an attack on one of their enemies’ homes?

Tony was watching him, and Harry thought he saw both fear and anger on his face. “You didn’t hear anything?” Harry asked. “It must have been done while we were putting the bed together or when we were in the kitchen with you.”

“I couldn’t hear anything over the racket that elf was making.” He suddenly scowled. “You don’t think she was in on it?”

“No, that’s impossible. She became my house-elf at least two hours ago. But Winky has no reason to help a Death Eater, she . . .” Harry fell silent. He tapped his wand against his hand and looked up at the wall. “I don’t think it was a Death Eater,” he said slowly. “It’s not the way they show the Dark Mark. They want to make it visible so that it terrifies everyone. This one might not have been noticed for a week if I hadn’t come out back to Disapparate.”

Tony scowled again. “Maybe it was just a kid having his idea of a joke. If that’s it, a lot of people will be plenty ticked off.” He went to the doorway and squatted down, examining the ground. “I guess these could be from a ladder.” He pointed to two scuff marks about eighteen inches apart.

Harry had not considered a ladder, but he didn’t think it was relevant. The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that this Mark was not the work of a real Death Eater, but of someone who wanted to frighten him or maybe just ruin his day, and although he couldn’t see why anyone would want to, they had come close.

He put his wand away. “Maybe you’re right, maybe it’s just some stupid kid. Maybe you should mention it to Rosmerta and a few other people in the village.”

“I’ll do that. It won’t be good for business, though, and that’ll make some people unhappy.” He shrugged and looked up at the wall. “Well, too bad. I know lots of other people who aren’t going to stand for this crap.” He turned to Harry. “Look, don’t you worry about it. If it’s not Death Eaters, then we’ll take care of it; _I’ll_ take care of it. Go home and let Molly Weasley make dinner for you.”

Harry nodded his appreciation. He felt a little better now that he was pretty certain it was not Death Eaters, and Tony’s reassurances made him also realize that he was not facing this—whatever it was—alone. Some of the leaden weight inside him lifted. As he stepped back, his hand went to the Bouquedelle. He spun on the spot and was back at the gate of the Burrow in a few heartbeats.

He paused with his hand on the latch. Ginny would be tearing out of the house in a moment—she always seemed to know when he was about to return, and went to the kitchen to wait—but this time his mood was different. He knew that there was a cloud on his face, and he did not want her to see it. He could not tell her about the Dark Mark without ruining her birthday surprise, but if he had learned one thing this summer, it was that neither he nor Ginny could hide feelings from the other. Just as she always knew when he was coming home, she always knew when he had something on his mind, whether it was good or bad.

He tried to put on a happy face—it wasn’t really that hard since he knew he was about to have Ginny in his arms for a lengthy snog—and went through the gate. The kitchen door burst open and Ginny came flying across the yard, her arms outstretched, her hair streaming behind, the blazing look on her face. She launched herself onto him and wrapped her arms and legs around him. Harry was ready, since she had done the same thing every time he returned from his weekly trips, and she had knocked him down only the first two times.

They kissed longer than they usually did, and when they broke apart they both said at the same time, “I missed you,” and laughed together. It had become a ritual, and it was always followed by Harry spinning around with Ginny in his arms, and then carrying her to the kitchen door. This time, however, Ginny stopped him after he had whirled her around. “Wait!” she said excitedly. “I want to show you something. Let me down.”

Harry put her down and saw that she was clutching a large, familiar-looking brown envelope embossed with the Hogwarts seal. “It’s my Hogwarts letter, and look!” She waved it in front of Harry’s face and did a dance in a little circle. “I’m Quidditch captain!”

“Ginny! That’s so brilliant! Let me be the first to congratulate you.” He took her back and they had their second extended snog of the afternoon. After several minutes his hand slipped down her back and onto her bottom, and he pressed her closer, but stopped. He knew that something was wrong. “What’s the matter?” he whispered into her ear.

Ginny looked down and rubbed her hands over the front of his shirt. She glanced back at the house. “Let’s go for a walk.”

She took his hand and led him back out the gate to their hiding place in the field next to the lane. They sat in the little clearing and Ginny frowned.

“My parents found out about the birth control. Dad got a notice at work of all the magic I’ve done this summer, including those. Mum showed it to me this afternoon after Dad left.” She giggled. “I think she was impressed how many times . . .” She turned a Weasley crimson and Harry laughed.

“I’m sorry,” he said, when she looked at him crossly. “It isn’t funny, I know. What did they say? Did they ground you? Your birthday is so soon.”

“No, they didn’t do anything, especially after I brought up the fact that they did the same thing when they were still at Hogwarts.”

“How do you know that?”

“I overheard a conversation between Tonks and Remus when they were visiting us before they got married. Remus was always pretty straight-laced, you know, and Tonks actually had to persuade him to make love to her. One of the arguments she used was that my parents had a great marriage even though they did it before they were married.”

“So there’s hope for us,” Harry said. Ginny smacked him and he grabbed her arm, so she swung her other. He tried to kiss her but she turned her head.

“Harry, wait, I feel funny about it. My mum’s . . .”

Harry sat back. “But I do have my wand with me.”

“Please don’t joke about it. I’m sorry, I really am.” She stood and he also got up.

Harry put his arms around her and gave her a hug. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been so pushy.” Ginny sighed, and he kissed her gently.

Dinner that evening was a little on the quiet side. There were only four of them, and the two adults cast frequent glances at Harry when they thought he wouldn’t notice, and they were constantly asking him and Ginny to pass the potatoes or pour them some pumpkin juice. Ginny was unnaturally un-talkative, not looking up from her plate much, and Harry alternated between flashes of embarrassed self-consciousness and inexplicable, barely controllable urges to laugh during the lengthy moments of silence. No one spoke about Ginny’s list of illegal magic or, needless to say, her use of birth control charms. Molly jumped up when they were finished and cleared the table, washed the dishes, and put them away before anyone else had moved. She and Arthur retired to the parlor, and Ginny and Harry went for a walk.

“I think they’ve decided to pretend nothing happened,” Ginny said as they strolled down to Fred’s grave. “As of Tuesday they can officially ignore it. Parents are weird.”

Harry chuckled. “Wouldn’t know. I guess that’s something good about being an orphan.”

“That’s not funny. And weird isn’t necessarily bad. Look at Luna and her dad.” They had reached the grave and were standing at the foot, looking at the headstone and the epitaph. Ginny fell silent. They stood there for several minutes and she turned away.

“I can’t forget him,” she said as they walked back to the Burrow, “but now when I look at his grave I get the feeling that he’s asking me to stop feeling sorry for him, because I’m really just feeling sorry for myself.”

“I know what you mean,” Harry replied. Ginny suddenly looked at him.

“Of course you do. That’s stupid of me. I’ve had one brother die. You’ve had . . . how many?”

“Don’t talk like that. It’s different for both of us. You knew him and lived with him for almost seventeen years. I never lived that long with anyone who died. I guess I knew Dumbledore the best, but I felt closest to Sirius, and I only knew him for a couple of years. And Dobby . . .” He said no more, and looked down as they walked.

Ginny took his hand and leaned her head on his shoulder. “I just thought of something else that’s weird. We’ll never forget what Fred looked like because George is still here.”

“You’re right, I hadn’t thought of that.”

They reached the Burrow and took two folding chairs that were leaning against the side of the house—one of them Arthur’s Muggle lawn chair—and set them up next to the garden. Dusk was falling and they could hear the chirping of night insects and could see bats and swallows zooming across the darkening sky. A light breeze came up.

Harry sighed, and Ginny glanced at him, but he didn’t notice. He was lost in thought about the events of the day: the Dark Mark and the news that Ginny’s parents knew that they were having sex. The latter created one advantage: it made it easier to hide his worries about the former. He didn’t like keeping it from her, but he had been working so hard to make a perfect birthday present, and he wanted it so badly to be perfect, that he didn’t feel guilty at all about not telling her. He could tell Ron and Hermione on Saturday when they returned from their holiday in France, and maybe by then Tony would know who had done it. He could ask Ron to send an owl up to Hogsmeade without making Ginny suspect anything.

The more he thought about it, the more the Dark Mark puzzled him. There just weren’t enough Death Eaters out of jail to pose a danger, and all the most powerful ones were accounted for, dead or in Azkaban. Everyone in Hogsmeade knew that what he was doing with the inn was for Ginny; he had not kept it a secret, but now he wished he had. Was someone trying to get to him through her? That’s what he had feared after Dumbledore was killed. He thought about Stan and Harriet, and glanced at Ginny.

She had been watching him, and when Harry looked she did not avert her eyes. “What’s wrong?” she said. “Something’s bothering you.”

“Oh, nothing.” Harry tried to sound nonchalant, but he knew immediately that it wouldn’t work. Ginny sometimes scared him with her witch’s intuition—or whatever it was—that allowed her to read his emotions so accurately.

She opened her mouth, but Harry spoke first, thinking that a partial admission of the truth might let him keep the main secret. “Okay, you’re right, as usual,” he smiled, but she did not return it. “Something happened today, but if I tell you it’ll ruin your surprise. You’ll find out next Wednesday. There’s no big problem.”

“It is something serious,” Ginny frowned. “It’s bothering you.”

“It is bothering me, but I really want this to be a surprise. Look, Gin, you’ll really love it, I’m sure you will. Please, just wait another week. Please?”

A small smile replaced her frown, and she leaned over and took his hand. “You’re sweet. Okay, the surprise is sounding better all the time. I’ll wait.” She squeezed his hand and sat back, but Harry didn’t let her go; he was pleased with himself for being able to convince her. He pulled her over into his lap for an extended goodnight kiss.

Ginny did not raise the subject again, and for the next two days things at the Burrow remained quiet. During the day, when Arthur was at work, Molly was pleasant with Harry, but she was also preoccupied with preparations for Ginny’s two parties, the one for the family on her birthday, and the big bash for dozens of friends on the following Saturday. During the evenings Arthur and Harry avoided each other after dinner, but that had been the pattern all summer: Arthur relaxed with Molly in the parlor while Harry and Ginny took walks around the countryside, usually coming home just before her parents went to bed.

#   #   #   #

On Saturday morning the rest of the family began to arrive. Bill and Fleur came early, Fleur unleashing a torrent of intermixed French and English as she described their holiday on the Riviera with Ron and Hermione. Later in the morning Percy Apparated and immediately sat down with his mother to get up to speed on the arrangements for the big party. George, Ron, and Hermione all came together from Diagon Alley; Ron and Hermione had gone to their flat first upon their return from abroad. Hermione looked positively exotic in a tan that darkened her skin several shades, while Ron’s sunburn triggered a lecture from Molly on the dangers of too much sun; she wondered out loud how she could have raised a wizard who didn’t know enough to use UnSun, or one of the other well-known sunburn remedies available at any wizarding apothecary. But she admitted, with a look at Fleur, that she didn’t actually know if there were any such establishments in the less civilized parts of the world. She went to a cabinet and pulled out her well-worn copies of _Common Magical Ailments and Afflictions_ and _Pocks’s Home Health and Herbal Helper_ , found a charm that cleared up the sunburn, and extracted a promise from Ron—after warning him not to roll his eyes—that he would be more careful next time.

Charlie was due in from Romania on Sunday, and nobody wanted Aunt Muriel to come before Tuesday.

Harry waited for an opportunity to talk to Ron and Hermione about the Dark Mark, but never got a chance: someone was always nearby, especially Ginny. He had to wait until late at night, when they all finally went to bed, for he and Ron to be alone in the attic bedroom.

Ron had started grumbling when he first saw the pristine condition of his room, and he was still upset. Most of it hadn’t been touched since Kreacher had cleaned the house after Fred’s funeral, and Harry had messed up only his side of the room, around his cot.

“Remind me never to have a house-elf,” Ron muttered as he tossed his shirt onto the bookcase. “They do more damage than they’re worth. Where did all my _Quidditch World_ ’s go?”

Harry was lying on his cot, leaning back against the pillows, watching Ron scatter the magazines that Kreacher had so carefully organized on top of the dresser. “I doubt that Hermione would want one, either,” he grinned.

“You’re right.” Ron lay down on his bed with the latest issue; the cover photo showed the Harpies’ Seeker, Velda Vermeer, whizzing around a practice pitch chasing a Golden Snitch.

“Something happened up in Hogsmeade,” Harry said.

“Uh, huh.” Ron kept flipping pages while Harry described his day in the village, but as soon as Harry mentioned the Dark Mark he put down the magazine and stared at him. When Harry finished, Ron looked worried.

“The obvious candidate is that Tangerine witch, she could have—”

“Her name is Turquoise.”

“Whatever. She sounds like a piece of work. She probably saw Winky in the kitchen and figured you had hired her, and got pissed off and made a crude attempt to scare you.”

“That doesn’t make any sense, unfortunately,” Harry said, thinking about the “interview.” “She was a total air-head. I wonder if she’s even heard of the Dark Mark.”

“Who else could it be? Shunpike was with you the whole time, it couldn’t be him.”

“It was not Stan,” Harry declared firmly. “He was Imperiused to begin with and the Ministry released him. He didn’t do it.”

“So maybe Tony Trostle was right, it was just a stupid prank by a juvenile delinquent who got pissed on Firewhiskey.”

“That reminds me. Can I use Pig to send Tony an owl tomorrow? I want to know if he’s found out anything before I go up there with Ginny.”

The plan was for Harry to Apparate with Ginny early Wednesday morning, and for Ron and Hermione to join them later in the day. And with Stan and Winky now there, Harry figured it would be a festive occasion. The thought that someone would ruin it for him—for Ginny—was still angering him. He was becoming more and more impatient to bring her there, and less and less tolerant of anyone who got in his way.

“If it _is_ Death Eaters,” Harry said, scowling at the window and the night outside, “I’m having a talk with Kingsley Shacklebolt. I thought they were all taken care of.”

Ron shook his head. “Uh, uh. What I heard at the Ministry before we left was that maybe a dozen are still out there somewhere. No one knows if they left the country or went underground. They could be anywhere.”

“Well, I don’t want them in Hogsmeade.”

Ron looked over at him. “It’ll be fine, mate. We’ll all be there. They’d be idiots to try anything.” Harry grunted, blew out his candle, turned over, and slept. In the morning when he awoke, Harry went to Ron’s desk and wrote out a quick message for Tony. He gave it to Pigwidgeon and the owl flapped off into the brightening morning sky.

Now that he had spoken to Ron about the Dark Mark and knew that he would be receiving some news directly from Tony, he felt more relaxed and spent the day with Ginny, Ron, and Hermione. Ginny, for her part, saw that Harry’s mind was eased, and she also relaxed. As the day of her coming of age approached, her anticipation was growing. On top of that, she suddenly realized that here she was, by Harry’s side, as he conversed with his best friends of seven years, and she was being included. Even back at the end of her fifth year, when she and Harry had first started dating, she knew that he had kept her in the dark about many things having to do with Dumbledore and Voldemort. Now he told her everything. Ron still occasionally talked to her like his little sister, which Ginny found irritating, especially since Hermione was, as always, treating her as an equal. But she enjoyed being included in parts of Harry’s life that she had previously been excluded from.

They made plans to get together in London; they speculated about changes at the Ministry, and about the Auror training program that Ron was signed up for; they talked about Hermione’s research at the Arithmancy Institute—after she had finished an enthusiastic description of the art museums and historical sites of southern France; and Harry, Ron and Ginny in turn bored Hermione with a long discussion about Ginny’s Quidditch captaincy and the Gryffindor team’s prospects for the Cup. No one mentioned Harry’s future plans.

On Sunday Charlie arrived from Romania, sporting a new scar on his cheek. “Horntail,” he explained, refusing to let Molly touch it or cut his hair again. Late in the afternoon Pigwidgeon returned with a parchment tied to his leg. The family were sitting outside under the peach tree, and the owl landed in it.

“Ron,” Percy pointed, “there’s your owl with a message.” Ron held up his hand and Pig flew down. Ron took the parchment, moved off a few yards, and read it. Harry watched him, and Ginny watched Harry. In a moment Ron was back, but didn’t look at Harry or say anything.

Harry didn’t know what to do. If he asked about the owl, Ginny would instantly know that it was about Hogsmeade. He fidgeted in his chair, until finally Ginny stood.

Harry looked at her in alarm, thinking she was going to ask Ron about the owl, but she turned to her mother. “Mum, can you show me that Quidditch robe pattern you were telling me about? I’d like to get started on it after the party.”

“Of course, dear.” Molly jumped up, and the two of them went into the house.

Harry was positive that Ginny had done it deliberately, so that he could read the owl without worrying about her. After making a mental note to worship her even more devoutly in the future, he turned to Ron, who handed him the parchment. He, Ron, and Hermione walked off as Harry started reading. It was indeed from Tony Trostle.

 

 

>   _Harry,_
> 
> _Ros and I talked to everyone who was in the village Wednesday afternoon, but no one saw anything. Ros told me about your meeting with Turquoise Southeby, and I told her about your elf, and we both thought we’d better talk to Turquoise. She was at the Post Office, and she told us that she had been there all afternoon after she left you at the Three Broomsticks. She’s been working there a few hours a week since she came back from down south. We saw Rathbone Rastlebuck, the postwizard, and he confirmed it._
> 
> _We don’t have any other ideas. Some people are asking questions about Stan Shunpike, but he was with you the whole time, as I understand it, so he’s out as a suspect._
> 
> _I still think it was kids. Carlos and a couple of the crew volunteered to keep an eye on the inn, so I don’ think anything else will happen._
> 
> _So don’t worry, Harry. Have a good time at Miss Weasley’s party, and I’ll see you on_
> 
> _Wednesday. Your little couch was delivered on Friday, and I put it in front of the fireplace like you wanted._
> 
> _Regards, Tony_

Hermione read over Harry’s shoulder and frowned. “It is worrisome, but I agree with Ron that it wasn’t a Death Eater. Why would they want to draw attention to themselves? It would just make the Ministry look for them even harder.”

“But if no one in Hogsmeade did it, who did?” Ron asked.

“Obviously, whoever did it left.”

“But,” said Harry, “if it was someone who didn’t live there, they would have been noticed. When I was in the Three Broomsticks in the morning it was almost empty. No one was around. A stranger would have been obvious.”

Hermione shook her head. “They could have been hiding, or using magic to disguise themselves.”

“Polyjuice Potion? That seems like a lot of trouble to go to.”

“Well . . .” Hermione thought for a moment. “It does sound too sophisticated, especially when you consider how crude the Mark was.”

“I’ll go back to what Tony says,” Ron said. “It was some idiot git who lives in the village and thought he was being funny. And there wasn’t that much time between Harry’s going inside with the bed and going back outside to Disapparate. So it wasn’t like whoever did it had to account for hours of his time.”

“Good thinking, Ron,” said Hermione—he grinned and tapped his temple—“and Tony’s right about not letting it bother you, Harry. Lot’s of people will be around, just relax and have a good time.”

It sounded like good advice to Harry as they walked back to the peach tree. It felt nice that so many others wanted him and Ginny to feel safe, but part of the problem was that he did not want lots of people around. He wanted to be alone with Ginny. In spite of all the intimacy they had shared this summer, none of it had happened in a place they could call their own or just relax in for as long as they wanted. There had been some late night snogs in the parlor, but Ginny was very clear that, inside the house, things could go only so far and no further.

Outdoors was different, and it was in Ginny’s hiding places that they had become so close and the sometimes eerie feeling of being inside each other’s mind had started to happen. Being with Ginny that way, under the sky, or enclosed in a bower of trees, or underneath an archway of a hedgerow, was indescribably glorious. But it was obviously not an option when the weather was cool or when it rained. Beyond that, the moments always ended too soon. Ginny didn’t want to worry her parents, so there was always the knowledge that they had to get back to the Burrow for dinner or for bedtime.

No, Harry wanted a place of their own, a safe and homey place for his Ginny, where they were free to do whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted, to live their lives together. And no matter how reassuring his friends were, no matter how logical their arguments, he could not shake the feeling that the Dark Mark was an omen of something that would keep him from having the happiness he craved.

The back door of the Burrow opened. Ginny came out carrying a tray of cinnamon buns and tea, and as she walked toward the family, she smiled at Harry.

#   #   #   #

Monday was hot and cloudless, and preparations for the two parties continued. The Burrow bustled with activity: food preparation, decorating, cleaning. Ginny’s brothers would not let her help with anything, but George spent several hours with her by Fred’s grave, talking quietly. Harry at first felt ignored, but as he was drawn into the party activities by the rest of the family, even by Molly and Arthur, the feeling quickly passed. Ginny’s parents seemed relaxed with him again, as though now that Ginny’s adulthood was only hours away, the adult part of her relationship with Harry had become acceptable.

He helped Charlie, Ron, Fleur, and Hermione decorate the entire house in red and gold magical decorations: streamers, bunting, lanterns, balloons, and paper cutouts. The day passed quickly and when Ginny kissed him goodnight near the gate late in the evening, she could not contain her excitement.

“I can’t believe it’s finally happening!” she exulted. “It’s just so wonderful to have everyone here, and Bill has Fleur, and Ron has Hermione, and I have you . . .”

They said goodnight again on the landing in front of Ginny’s room, and Harry went up to the attic where Ron was already in bed. He changed into his pajamas and fell asleep immediately.

The night was very quiet. Ron and Harry slept soundly, not awakening or even stirring when, shortly after midnight, the door slowly opened and an arm in a frilly nightgown poked inside. The wand in the hand waved, but they did not hear the whispered _”Accio_   wands,” that caused their wands to rise from their night stands and float to the door, where the charmer’s other hand grabbed them in mid-air. And after the door closed, they did not hear the sucking sound that followed a whispered, _”Colloportus longeva_.” After that, the night became even quieter, and Harry and Ron continued to sleep peacefully.

August 11 dawned clear. Birds in the forest were the first to awaken, but as the sun was climbing above the horizon, Ginny and George appeared around the side of the Burrow and gazed up at the attic window. Ginny looked at George who grinned and nodded.

Inside their room, Harry and Ron were still sound asleep, but they both jumped up when the window banged open. Ron was the first to reach it. Looking down, he saw his sister and brother standing on the ground thirty feet below, Ginny with her wand pointing directly at him. “Wake up, sleepies!” she cried. “It’s my birthday!”

Ron sprang back, colliding with Harry who had come to the window behind him; they both crashed to the floor in a heap.

“She’s doing something!” Ron shouted. “Let’s get out of here!” He untangled from Harry, ran to the door, and yanked on the handle, but the door didn’t budge. “We’re locked in! Where’s my wand?” He scrambled to his nightstand and looked around frantically. “She took them! We’re trapped!”

Harry watched Ron ricocheting around the room before turning back to the window. At that moment came a loud whoosh, and he ducked as dozens, then hundreds of small objects streamed in through the open window. Some were red and some were green. Harry retreated, knocking into Ron again, and they both fell onto his bed. The flying objects, filling the room, began circling the two of them. As they whirled, they separated themselves; the red ones surrounded Harry while the green ones circled Ron, forming little tornados, spinning and fluttering.

Harry reached up and snatched one of the red objects. It was soft and smooth; he looked closer, and saw that it was a tiny heart-shaped silk pillow. He stood and walked slowly to the window; the red tornado stayed with him. As he passed Ron, he saw that Ron’s little whirlwind was made of hundreds of green paper lips, all puckering furiously. He reached the window, still surrounded by red hearts, and leaned out.

“I surrender!” he called. “How do I get out of here?”

Ginny raised her wand. ” _Wingardium Leviosa!”_ she cried. Harry rose out of the window and into the air, floating gently to the ground and landing gracefully next to Ginny. She waved her wand and the flying hearts disappeared, except the one in Harry’s hand.

He grinned. “Enjoying your seventeenth birthday, are you?”

“Immensely,” she grinned back.

They heard a shout from the attic window. “Oi! Witch! Get me out of here, now!”

“Oh, dear,” tisked Ginny, “Ron’s still up there. Can’t you get down?” she shouted. A string of swear words issued from the cloud of lips.

“I don’t think that’s the correct response, Brother,“ George called up. “Remember, you’re dealing with an adult.”

“What’s the magic word?” Ginny shouted.

“Please! Dammit!” Ron waved his arms furiously and futilely at the lips. It only made them swirl faster, and now, every few seconds, one would zoom in and attach itself to Ron’s mouth. As soon as he ripped it away, another one took its place.

“Okay, here goes!” Ginny called. She pointed her wand again and, with another Wingardium Leviosa, Ron floated out the window and descended. By the time he touched down his face was covered with green lips, all making smacking noises as he ripped them off.

“What the bloody hell are you doing?” Ron roared; his face was bright scarlet underneath the green. “Get rid of them! Okay, please get rid of them!”

“Okay,” Ginny answered cheerfully, “now that you know how much snogging I did after every time you yelled at me for doing it.”

Ron laughed despite himself, but began flailing at his face again as a dozen paper lips took advantage of his open mouth and zeroed in on it. “I’m sorry!” he spluttered. “I’ll never yell again, I promith.” One of the enchanted lips had attached itself to his tongue, and he spit it out.

By now the entire family, including Arthur and Molly, were outside, gathered in a highly entertained circle around George, Ginny, and her victims, both of whom were still in their pajamas. Ginny’s wand flicked and the lips vanished, except for one that was kissing the top of Ron’s head; he swatted and caught it, and it, too disappeared. Ginny tossed Ron his wand and handed Harry his, as everyone applauded.  She curtseyed and turned to Harry. “Do you still have my heart?”

Harry held it up. “Can I keep it?”

“Forever,” she giggled.

George put his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Mate, you should be the first to wish happy birthday.”

Harry looked around; everyone was watching. He took Ginny’s shoulders and she fixed him with her blazing look. Telling himself to ignore two parents, five brothers, one sister-in-law, and one girlfriend, he said loudly, “Happy birthday, Ginny,” and kissed her.

Ginny’s eyes went briefly to her father, who was smiling with the rest. When Harry finally let her go—to another round of applause—she called, “Well, Dad, there are a few people at the Ministry with nothing to do now.” He and Molly laughed, as the others looked puzzled. “I’ll tell you all later,” Ginny said to them, “much later.”


	12. Birthday Presents

After breakfast Percy and Charlie fetched Aunt Muriel, who took up where she had left off at Fred’s funeral. She cornered Harry and Ginny while they were sitting in the parlor looking at an album of family birthday photos. They looked up when Muriel came in, followed by Charlie who was trying unsuccessfully to steer her past them and out into the garden.

“Well, Ginevra,” she said loudly, “that’s quite a dress. Do you really think Mr. Potter needs all that stimulation?”

Ginny was wearing a new dress from Madam Malkin’s that she had picked out from a catalog. It was a very short, light-weight summer dress, creamy white with red roses embroidered around the hem; it was gathered with elastic under the bust, had a plunging neckline, and spaghetti straps. Her mother had managed not to register an opinion aside from raised eyebrows. Her father had stared at it with objections on the tip of his tongue, but Molly had quickly started talking about the weather.

Harry removed his arm from around Ginny’s shoulders and shifted on the sofa so that their thighs were not plastered together. Ginny moved her leg, however, to keep it firmly against his.

“How are you, Aunt Muriel?” she smiled. “I’m so glad you could come to my party.”

“So am I. You only come of age once, after all. My own was ninety years ago, if you can believe it, and I certainly wasn’t wearing a dress like that.” She appraised Ginny and her eyes traveled the short distance between hemline and neckline. “More’s the pity,” she muttered. “Charles,” she turned with an annoyed look as he tugged on her elbow, “is there something I can do for you? Perhaps a haircut?”

Charlie mouthed an apology to Ginny and finally managed to get Muriel moving towards the door. “We’re all set up outside, and the weather is perfectly beautiful,” he said in an attempt to get her out of the room.

“Yes, I’m aware of that,” she said testily. “I’m not senile, you know.”

Ginny reached over and put Harry’s arm back around her shoulder as soon as the door closed. “That’s the first time since I was four that she liked what I was wearing.”

“It _is_ stimulating,” Harry noted and put his hand on her knee. He started moving it up her leg and Ginny slapped it.

“Why do men always grope?” she mused.

“What do you mean, ‘men’? Who else groped you?”

“So you admit that men grope.”

‘I admit that I do, especially when I’m stimulated.”

“You’re always stimulated.”

Harry’s hand stayed on her knee and they went back to the photo album.

The festivities began in earnest after lunch. When the cake and ice cream had been devoured and the dishes cleared, everyone moved their chairs into a semi-circle; Harry sat next to Ginny. George stood in the center and all fell silent.

“It’s time for the presents,” he announced. “But first I want to say something. This is the seventeenth birthday of my sister, Ginny. She was our baby for years, which she hated. Well, no more calling her ‘baby.’ She’s now a woman, and a brilliant, beautiful woman. There is no one else I would have wanted as a sister, and she’s the best thing that ever happened to this family. When someone finally takes her—” he gave Harry a thumbs up, and there were a few chuckles and Fleur said something in French while Harry tried to sink into the earth “— he’ll have to take all of us, because Ginny comes with the Weasleys and she always will.”

There were cheers, and Ginny jumped up and hugged and kissed him. Harry tried to hide his embarrassment by taking a swig of butterbeer, but Charlie clapped him on the back at that moment and the resulting mess on the front of his shirt only made the embarrassment worse.

“Okay!” George called while Molly Scourgified Harry. “Enough of my eloquence. Let’s do presents.” He waved his wand and with a loud bang a small table appeared in front of him, covered with a golden cloth. “The first one is from Harry Potter, and given his immense wealth, especially compared to the rest of us, it had better be good.”

“Wait,” said Ginny, “he’s giving me his present tomorrow.”

“Correct and incorrect,” George answered. “Tomorrow morning you and he will Side-Along Apparate to a mystery location that only he and thousands of others know about. You, Ginny, in the entire wizarding world, are the only one who does not know where it is. But no matter. Harry has a present today, so unless you want him to give it to me instead—”

“Forget it!” said Harry. “It’s for Ginny.”

“Have it your way, then.” George waved his wand again and with another bang! a small box wrapped in red paper and bound with silver ribbon appeared on the gold cloth. Harry took it to Ginny and handed it to her.

“I wanted to give you something today,” he said. “Happy birthday.”

She slowly untied the ribbon and pulled the paper off, glancing at him, happily relishing the anticipation. Inside the wrapping was a dark red velvet box with a hinged cover. She opened it and her mouth dropped; she sucked in her breath with a drawn out, “Oh!” and held up a heart-shaped gold locket on a delicate gold chain. Three small rubies were embedded in the locket, one in each lobe of the heart and one at the bottom. Harry pointed to them. “These two are you and me, and this one is us.”

“Harry, it’s beautiful. Thank you. Rubies!”

“Open it.”

She opened the locket with her thumbnail, and grinned at him. “Your picture.” She passed the locket around, and everyone oohed and aahed.

“C’est magnifique!” Fleur exclaimed. “‘Arry, it is a lovely gift.” Ginny put it around her neck, grabbed Harry, and snogged him; she wouldn’t let him go until all of her brothers started clearing their throats in unison.

“Okay,” George continued, ”Ginny got a present and Harry got a present. Next, we have a gift from my baby brother and his lovely girlfriend.” Ron scowled. “Just joking,” George said. “Ron’s already had his comeuppance for the day. Any hickies left from this morning?”

“Not from this morning,” Ron said; Hermione turned pink.

George waved his wand again; another present appeared on the table. It was a small, flat box wrapped in dark green paper embossed with a golden talon. Ginny ripped the paper off and opened the box.

“Yes!” She punched the air with her fist, then showed the gift to Harry: a five-year season’s pass for two to all Holyhead Harpies home matches. She gave Ron and Hermione each a wet kiss and sat back down, grinning at Harry.

“Next, and probably most verbosely, we have—” George waved his wand and produced another loud bang and gift “—another season pass, from Percy. No, it only looks like a season pass.” Percy’s gift was in a box like the one from Ron and Hermione, but the paper was black and the symbol printed on it was that of the Ministry of Magic. When Ginny opened it she bounced out of her seat and ran over and hugged and kissed Percy.

“This is fantastic!” she exclaimed. “Look.” She showed it to Harry. “Free Apparition lessons from Wilkie Twycross himself, plus Percy will fill out all twenty-six forms I need for the license! Thank you!” She grinned at Percy who smiled appreciatively, and she gave him another kiss. Aunt Muriel, sitting next to him, patted his knee.

George shook his head. “Amazing. Percy had nothing to say. We’re all grateful, my silent brother.”

The next present, appearing with the usual bang! was from Bill and Fleur, wrapped in magical silver paper with points of gold that glowed in the sunlight. When Ginny opened the box she just stared at its contents, then slowly held up a silvery necklace. A single thin strand of the material held the clasp, but the front was about an inch wide, made up of silver-white filigrees of the same metal, braided and woven together. A single diamond was embedded in the center of the woven strands.

“It is a veela necklace,” Fleur said into the silence; its beauty seemed to hold everyone in a spell. “It is made from a very ancient metal zat can no longer be found in ze eart’. All ze mines are lost. I do not know ‘ow old zis one is, Ginny, but maybe t’ousands of years. It is very special jewelry for a very special woman.”

“It’s so light,” Ginny said softly. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful. See how light it is.” She handed it to Harry. It was feather-light, yet the strands seemed to be hard and very strong.

“Let’s see what it looks like,” he said. He undid the clasp and put it around Ginny’s neck; she lifted her hair and he fastened it. The silver strands and the diamond lay on her bosom, and when she looked up at Harry, he saw sparks of light deep in her eyes. He stared into them until Fleur laughed.

“Zat is veela magic, ‘Arry. You will never be able to resist.”

“Don’t want to,” he said. Ginny went to Bill and Fleur and kissed them both. Fleur whispered something in Ginny’s ear that made her blush. When she got back to her seat everyone gazed at her until self-consciousness overcame her.

“Go on, George,” she said. “Who’s next?”

George jumped as if coming out of a trance. “Right. Um, let’s see. Okay. Charlie!” He flourished his wand and a larger box appeared, wrapped in scarlet paper bedecked with fire-breathing dragons. Ginny ripped it open and took out a black dragon-hide jacket. She put it on and pranced around the circle, letting everyone admire it and caress the supple leather. She stopped in front of Charlie and gave him a hug and a kiss.

Aunt Muriel stood and held up her hand to stop George. “I don’t need your blabber or your circus tricks. You already know what my gift to my niece is.”

She went to Ginny and handed her an unwrapped, tattered velvet box; she took the top off, lifted out the tiara, and placed in on Ginny’s brow. “Your garrulous brother said one truthful thing, Ginevra. You are more than special to your family. I give you this tiara, which has come down from my ancestors, and you shall pass it on to one of your daughters or granddaughters. Wear it with pride, and remember that _you_ imbue it with beauty, not the other way around.”

“Thank you, Aunt Muriel,” Ginny whispered. “I promise you I will do that.”

Aunt Muriel bowed her head to Ginny and walked back to her seat, her carriage straight and stiff. She sat and glared at Percy when he patted her knee.

“Okay,” George continued. “The older generation has been heard from—”

“Watch it, Mr. Weasley!” Muriel snapped. “My wand still works just as well as anyone’s.”

“—the mature generation, as I was saying. Next, and almost last, is Ginny’s gift from Mum and Dad.” A bang! and a long, thin package appeared. Ginny grinned at Harry as she tore the paper off and opened the box. Everyone cheered when she removed a brand new Firebolt 21, the latest, fastest, and smoothest broomstick on the market. Ginny gave a shout and ran to her father, throwing her arms around him and then her mother. She went running around the garden, holding the broom over her head and whooping, as everyone laughed and shouted. She returned breathlessly to her seat and hugged Harry.

He examined her broom; it was clearly a more advanced model than his own lost Firebolt. “Wow, this is brilliant. You’ll fly circles around everyone at school.”

Arthur spoke. “We heard from Minerva that you would be named captain, and we couldn’t let you go back with one of those old sticks from the broom shed. How long have you used them?”

“I don’t know, Dad,” Ginny answered. “When was I born?” Everyone laughed.

“They aren’t quite that old,” Arthur said, “but almost.”

George flourished his wand. “And now we come to the final and best gift, if I do say so myself—mine.”

This time the package appeared without sound effects; it was large, about two feet high and cylindrical. It was standing on end, and noises came from it. Ginny unwrapped it; a large, russet-colored barn owl blinked at her and hooted loudly from inside the cage. Ginny jumped into George’s arms and they embraced.

“Her name is Bailey, and now you have no excuse not to write,” he said in a high voice that was a perfect imitation of their mother’s.

“Bailey,” Ginny crooned, and opened the cage. The owl hopped out onto the table. Ginny leaned closer and received a gentle peck on her cheek. Bailey turned her head completely around and peered at everyone, then ruffled her feathers and flapped up on top of the cage, where she sat watching Ginny.

George raised his hand again. “Folks, that concludes the acquisitive portion of our party. But before you all go take your naps, Ginny has one more thing to say. Miss Weasley.” He bowed and Ginny walked to the little table and looked around, smiling.

“This was the greatest party I’ve had in all my long, seventeen years. You are the best family in the world. Everything you gave me is perfect, I love it all. I want to do one more thing, though. I want us all to go tell Fred how beautiful things are and how much he would have loved it.”

She and George led the way to the oak tree; Ginny was wearing her tiara and the necklace and locket around her neck. At the grave she conjured a bouquet of roses and placed it against the headstone. Molly and Fleur wept and they all held hands and stood in silence for many minutes.

Late in the evening, after dinner and when most of the house had gone to bed, Harry and Ginny stood in the dark by the front gate, holding each other. “What a day,” Ginny sighed. “I wonder how Mum and Dad could afford that broom. It must have cost a month of his salary.”

“You deserve it,” said Harry as he stroked her hair. “But there’s something else I want to show you. I didn’t want anyone but you to see it.” He picked up the locket and, leaving the chain around her neck, put it on his palm. “Open it again.”

She did so.  In the growing darkness she could barely make out the picture of Harry grinning at her, but from its eyes came two pinpoints of green light like little emeralds gleaming in the dark.

Ginny looked up and her hands began to shake. “What . . .?”

“Ever since you told me that you saw my eyes when I was lying on the ground in front of Riddle, I knew I wanted to get this made and give it to you.”

Ginny’s whole body trembled. In that night that seemed so long ago on the lawn outside the castle, a night of so much death, she had stood over Elizabeth Derby’s body and there had been that vision of two green points of light. But an hour later that other moment had come, a fulcrum of her life: the instant when she saw Harry’s eyes open as he lay on the ground. The fear that had been impossible to bear had vanished in a blink of green. The world had been stopped and it had started again. There had been nothing but the certainty of death, and his eyes had brought the certainty of life.

Ginny bent over and looked again at the green sparks in the locket. She closed it, then without looking at Harry, took his hand and led him down the lane. Her sudden need was so great, and her desire so overwhelming, that she had to fight herself to keep from dragging him down in the middle of the road. She found the hidden gap in the hedge, and in the cleared circle in the middle of the field, shaking almost violently, she gave him every atom of her body and soul, and he took it. It was beyond passion, it possessed them both and they became something different, something that was not two separate people, but was more than one.

Afterward, they lay in each other’s arms, gasping, wondering what had happened. They didn’t speak, since words were useless for feelings that they hadn’t known even existed.

They dressed in silence and went back to the house that was now dark and still, and on the landing outside Ginny’s room they parted wordlessly, both of them still unable to verbalize anything about the past hour.

It was still dark when Ginny awoke the next morning. She had slept soundly, but as she started to drift up out of sleep she felt as if something was pulling her towards wakefulness, something that she wanted badly. As soon as she opened her eyes she sat up and knew why she was so instantly, completely awake. Today was the day she would go with Harry, and she was free, an adult, a woman. She put her hand to her chest and felt the locket.

Like a clap of thunder, the memory of last night came back. She fell back on her pillow and stared at the darkness. The thing that had happened to them was like a mountain compared to the anthill of turning seventeen. She didn’t understand it, but the experience was stuck in her, implanted, cemented. She knew that it would never leave her.

She took the locket from inside her nightgown, felt the inlaid rubies, and opened it. The green sparks shone in the dark. She closed it and tucked it back inside; she was going to wear it under her clothes, next to her skin, wanting to be constantly reminded of the picture inside and the two green sparks and the clearing in the center of the field.

A rustling noise near the window interrupted her reverie. Ginny lit a candle and two yellow eyes blinked at her. She jumped out of bed, went to Bailey’s cage, and opened it. The owl hopped onto Ginny’s outstretched forearm and gave her elbow a tickling peck. Ginny brought her arm up to her face and Bailey nibbled her lower lip.

“You’re beautiful, Bailey. Do you want to hunt? I’ll be gone all day, so you can stay out as long as you want.” She laughed. “We both can.” She carried Bailey to the open window and watched for the few seconds she could see the winged form as it flew into the darkness.

A soft knock and Harry’s loud whisper came from the door. “Ginny? Are you up?”

Ginny ran to the door and threw it open. Harry looked her up and down; he was already dressed. “I’m ready . . .” He suddenly seemed to have lost his train of thought.

Ginny laughed at his expression. “Yes, but for what? Never mind, I’ll be down in a minute.” She quickly closed the door before he could speak again, and leaned her back against it, listening. She heard a deep sigh and, after a few seconds, footsteps descending the stairs.

She dressed quickly, with her mind racing just as fast. This was the day, the day she had been waiting for since she had come home from Hogwarts. She had been anticipating it for so long, she was almost afraid it would be gone before she could experience it. She knew that Harry’s surprise had something to do with his living in Hogsmeade, but she had no clue otherwise. It couldn’t be something as mundane as a flat over one of the shops on the High Street; that would be too boring. It had to be something special.

She finished dressing and ran downstairs. Harry was at the table and her mum at the stove. Ginny smelled porridge, sausages, melon slices, and fresh coffee.

“’Morning, Mum. Hi, sweetie.” She kissed Harry’s cheek and sat next to him. Molly put their breakfasts in front of them and sat down across the table.

She looked from one to the other. “Now you’ll be careful, won’t you? I know you’ve done lots of Apparating, Harry, so I know you will be careful. Just remember, destination, determination, deliberation.”

“We know, Mum,” Ginny mumbled through a mouthful of porridge. “Harry Apparated all over the countryside last year. We’ll be fine.”

“Well, yes dear, I know, and I’m sure Harry will be careful, but you didn’t get a chance to practice at school, so just be sure you hold on tightly.”

“Mum! We will be fine.”

Molly sat back, opened her mouth and closed it. She looked from Ginny to Harry and back.

Harry smiled. “Really, Mrs. Weasley, it’ll be okay. All the time I was Apparating last year I was always looking over my shoulder for Death Eaters. It’ll be a lot easier now, so don’t worry.”

She gazed at him, and Ginny glanced at him too. He looked a little uncomfortable at first under her mum’s eye, but he smiled again. “I’ll take care of Ginny, Mrs. Weasley, I promise.”

Molly blinked. “I know you will, Harry. I think you’ll take better care of her than anyone ever has.” She got up and turned her back, but Ginny had seen the tears in her eyes.

Dawn broke, and people drifted downstairs. Hermione came down just behind Arthur, and soon Ron appeared, yawning and scratching his back where the worst of his sunburn was peeling. Fleur tripped brightly into the kitchen, flouncing her long silver hair just for the pleasure of it, and Ginny wondered if Fleur’s cheerfulness so early in the morning ever annoyed Bill.

As soon as there was enough light, Harry and Ginny went outside; both were wearing light traveling cloaks against the possibility of weather. Molly hugged them—Ginny was sure it was the first one for Harry since the notice from the Ministry had arrived—and Ron told them that he and Hermione would meet them in time for dinner. Ginny’s father gave her a kiss and took Harry’s hand in both of his. “Have a good time, son,” he said. Ginny took Harry’s left elbow, but watched her dad walk back to the house.

Harry put his right hand on Ginny’s right, the one holding his arm. “Ready?”

Ginny nodded vigorously. Thoughts of her parents vanished and she had to restrain herself from bouncing on her feet. She tightened her grip, felt Harry turn, and a crushing sensation pressed the air out of her lungs. She whirled with him, concentrating on the elbow in her grip, but Harry’s hand was also holding her tightly. In only a moment the crushing feeling was gone and they were standing in a lane in front of a building. It was cooler than it had been at the Burrow. She looked around and recognized Hogsmeade, but as she dropped Harry’s arm, she was momentarily disoriented; the building in front of them was strange, and she did not recognize it.

Ginny looked at Harry; he was grinning, his green eyes sparkling. He made a sweeping gesture with his arm. “Happy birthday again. Do you like it?”

“I . . . sure, yes . . . but, what is it?”

Harry laughed. “I was hoping you’d say something like that. It’s the Hog’s Head! I bought it last spring and I’ve spent the whole summer fixing it up for you. Do you like it?”

Ginny’s jaw dropped; she stared at the pristine, whitewashed walls, the bright red trim, the window boxes bursting with red, yellow, purple, orange, and pink blossoms. She turned her head and saw Scrivenshaft’s and Gladrags down the lane, the back of Dervish and Banges off to the side, and behind her, across an open field, the back of the post office and, past that, the Three Broomsticks. The railroad station was down the hill out of sight.

She pointed to the empty bracket over the door. “Where’s that horrible sign? Are you getting a new one?”

“I told the goblins they could have it.”

“The goblins?”

“I bought it from them. They used to own it before Aberforth, then right after the battle he sold it back, and it’s a long story, but I ended up with it.”

Ginny shook her head. “I still don’t understand. Why did you buy it? Who’s going to run it?”

“Me.”

Ginny was now totally perplexed. “Harry, _you’re_ going to run it? You’re going to run an inn? Is that what you want?”

“Ginny! Wait! I think it’ll be fun, maybe . . . I hope . . . But I did it so I could be here, with you. It’s a place for both of us, don’t you see?”

Ginny could tell that Harry had started to worry, but she still didn’t understand. “It’s . . . it’s a great idea, it really is. But . . ." She looked up and saw the open casement window on the upper floor with bright yellow curtains hanging in it. Suddenly she understood. “Harry, is that a flat up there?”

He followed her look, and laughed again, this time in relief. “Yes. Oh, Merlin, you thought it was still like it was before, when you went through the portrait into Hogwarts.”

Ginny took his hand. “I think I’m beginning to get the idea. Show it to me!”

He opened the front door and they went inside. Harry waved his wand, and hundreds of candles flared in the two chandeliers, in brass candlesticks lining the mirrors behind the bar, and in dozens of sconces lining the walls. The room was flooded with light from the candles and from the glittering crystals of the chandeliers. Ginny gasped and put her hands to her mouth. After a moment of wide-eyed wonder, she went to the bar and looked behind it, at the mug and glass racks above and at the ornate mirror, encased in a gilt frame with inlays of stained glass that reflected a rainbow of colors from all the candles.

Harry led her through a door next to the bar into the kitchen, and Ginny couldn’t help the “Oooh” that escaped her. “Harry, this is beautiful! How did you do all this?”

“It wasn’t me, no way. I hired a contractor that Bill told me about, Tony. You’ll meet him. He lives right outside the village and he’s—”

“Wait! Is that Tony Trostle?”

“Yes. Do you know him?”

“No, but Dad told me that he was the one who organized the village to fight.”

“At the battle? Last spring? I never knew that.”

“I can’t wait to meet him! He helped save all our lives. And he can do this too.” She gestured around the kitchen. “Amazing.”

Harry’s demeanor suddenly turned sober. “Ginny, that problem I didn’t want to tell you about? I think I should now. Tony’s been helping me with that too.”  He paused. “Someone put a Dark Mark over the back door. I found it just before I went home last week. Tony tried to find out who did it, but no one saw anything and we still don’t know anything. It looked like it was painted on the wall, and I don’t think they used magic to put it there.”

“A Dark Mark?” Ginny felt a chill, even though the room was pleasantly warm. “Well what kind of effing moron would do that? It wasn’t a Death Eater, they’re all in jail. It had to be a prank.”

“Yeah, that’s what I think, but I’m sorry, Gin, I wanted it to be perfect.” He leaned against a counter and heaved a sigh.

Ginny hated to see the disappointment in his face, so different from the pleasure that had been there a moment ago. She put her arms around him.

“Love, it’s all right. They can’t do anything to us. We’re so much stronger, can’t you feel it? And people like Tony aren’t afraid anymore. We aren’t alone. The inn is beautiful. Come, I want to see the upstairs.”

She pulled him away from the counter and kissed him. When he pressed himself to her, Harry felt the locket under her blouse. “Ah, there it is.” He put his hand on it. “I was wondering if you had worn it.”

“I like where it is,” she smiled. Harry knew that she meant his hand as well as the locket.

“Come on,” he grinned, “there’s more to see.” He led her out the back door to the small vestibule, with the stairs on the right climbing to the flat, and in front of them the door to the field behind the inn. “I want to show you where it was.” He opened the door and suddenly stopped.

Ten yards away under the spreading elm tree, Winky was getting to her feet. Next to her was a blanket and a large copper ladle, the same one she had tried to clobber Tony with a week ago. She looked at them, blinking away sleep.

“Good morning, Harry Potter,” she squeaked. “You is back with Ginny Weasley.”

“Winky,” Harry said, “what are you doing?”

“Winky is waking up. She will make breakfast for Harry and Ginny Pott– for Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley, if they wants.”

Ginny giggled. Harry glanced at her, uncertain how or if to react to the elf’s slip of the tongue. He said to Winky, “No, I meant what were you doing out here? Have you been sleeping under that tree?”

Winky rose to her full height of a little over two feet and looked at them sternly. “Winky has been guarding this door, and no one has come to put the evil sign on it.”

“Where was it?” Ginny asked, and Harry indicated the spot above the lintel. “Winky,” she said to the elf who had come to stand next to them, “you’ve been sleeping out here every night?”

“Harry Potter’s home will not be harmed while Winky is here.” She folded her arms and glared at them. “Does you want breakfast?”

Ginny laughed and Harry grinned. “No, thanks,” he said. “We already ate. But we’ll have lunch later, okay? Do you have anything for lunch?”

The elf looked at him as though he was crazy. “Of course Winky does.” She bowed to them and looked sideways at Ginny. “Winky will be in the kitchen all morning.” She went past them through the vestibule and closed the kitchen door behind her.

“She’ll be in the kitchen all morning,” Ginny told Harry; she swayed ever so slightly, and waited. Harry was lost in thought and didn’t move for a moment, so Ginny gave his hand a tug. “When did you get another elf?”

“What?” he suddenly said; he hadn’t heard her. “I was just wondering how she knew we would want lunch.”

“Don’t ask me, I never had a house-elf. But from what I’ve seen of Kreacher and now her, I’d say they can read minds.”

“Merlin, I hope not,” Harry muttered, and looked guiltily at her.

She laughed. “Come on, show me the flat.”

They climbed the stairs, but before Harry opened the door at the top, he paused. “I hope you like it.”

“I already love it.” Ginny had no trouble sounding enthusiastic; everything from the brilliant dining room to the perfect kitchen to finding a house-elf standing guard was fantastic. She could not imagine that Harry’s flat would be different.

The first thing she saw when he opened the door was the fireplace, and she immediately recognized it as a copy of the one in the Burrow. She walked around the love seat that faced it and stood on the brick hearth, running her hand along the smooth, dark mantel as Harry watched.

“How did you do this?” she asked. “It’s beautiful. It’s perfect.”

“So you like it?” Harry was still by the door, grinning.

“Like it? Harry . . . Yes, I love it. You made it like the one in the parlor.” She came to him and hugged him. “It’s the best birthday present ever! Except for the locket, I mean. But this one’s great too. They’re both . . .” She stopped as Harry kissed her. “Mmm, where’s the . . .”

“Over here.” Harry led her to the bedroom. The magnificent four-poster with its red and gold hangings stood there, solid, stately, grand. “This is what I especially wanted for you.”

“Harry . . .”

His mouth was on hers and his hands were everywhere as they fell onto the bed. “Harry, Harry,” was all Ginny could say, except, “Yes.”

Around noon they wandered into the small kitchen, which Ginny hadn’t seen yet. “Cute,” she said. “Cozy. Perfect for late night snacks.”

“Wait a minute. How do you do that? That’s exactly what I thought a month ago when I told Tony what I wanted.”

She laughed. “It seems like a good idea.” She went through the cabinets and cupboards. “Um, Harry, there’s nothing here. What were you planning to eat with?”

“I wanted you to pick it all out. I don’t know anything about that stuff. Can you?”

“Of course. You need more furniture too, and some rugs. How about a big, furry rug in front of the fireplace?”

“Absolutely. And can you help me pick out some pictures and decorations? The only picture I have is that one of Hogwarts, but I want to put up more.”

“You have some photos, don’t you, of your parents? You can put one or two on the mantel.”

“And I need one of you, for the bedroom.”

Ginny blushed. “Well, I need one of you for my dorm.”

“That’s settled, then. We’ll go into Diagon Alley and get pictures taken and buy everything we need for . . . for our home.” Harry paused. “Well, Winky’s probably ready. Wait here, I’ll go see.”

Ginny walked around the flat while Harry was gone. She noticed the painting of Hogwarts on the wall for the first time, and stood in front of it, wondering where in Merlin’s name he had found something so awful. She ran her hand over the mantel again, and walked to the casement window, pushed the curtains aside and looked out. She could see the Astronomy Tower at Hogwarts over the roofs of the village, and thought that it would be fun to visit the castle today. She had never been there during the summer, when few people were around; it would be interesting to see it like that, and to see if all the damage was repaired.

She went into the bedroom and made the bed. This morning was the first time that Harry had loved her in a proper bed, and it had been beautiful: warm, snug, and safe. The outdoors had its virtues, but she preferred this. And the bed itself was perfect, like everything that Harry had done here.

Back in the sitting room she went to the picture window and gazed across green meadows at the purple hills in the distance. It was a nice view, not grandiose but pretty and quiet. Perfect, again.  It was almost too good to be real, like a children’s fairy tale. And she knew why Harry wanted to make everything perfect, why he constantly asked if she liked it: it was the other side of the coin of his insecurity. She could sense all too painfully when he had his moments of doubt and loneliness, when he thought that he could never be happy or that he didn’t even have a right to be happy. This inn and the nest he had built in it were his reach for that happiness. Some parts of it, like the pathetic painting of Hogwarts and the empty cupboards in the kitchen, were endearing in their clumsiness, but if his goal was to achieve happiness by pleasing her, he was well on his way.

Still, Ginny knew that they—she—had to be careful. Harry’s victory over Riddle and his craving for happiness sometimes combined to make him a charging, fire-breathing dragon, capable of accidentally incinerating anything and anyone in his way. She herself could be consumed. It wasn’t that she didn’t want him or want to live with him, or couldn’t imagine any future better than a life with him, but sometimes Harry’s ferocious needs took her breath away, as had just happened in the bedroom.

Some of it was her own doing, her inability to stop herself, as she had told her mother the morning her father had brought out the list of underage magic. But she was not sorry for it. There were girls at school who said they would not have sex before marriage because it was wrong. But how could what happened last night, after Harry showed her what was in the locket, be wrong? How could it be wrong to give and receive so much joy? How could it be wrong to feel so close to someone? The question was not whether it was right for them to be so close, but whether the closeness could hurt them.

Harry’s longing for happiness could easily devour them both. She might be desperate for him sometimes, but she was not, like him, desperate for happiness. In the past, some of her “friends” had warned her about him. He was “damaged goods,” they said, he would hurt her. Everyone knew he had been raised by Muggles who hated him: he had come to Hogwarts looking like a starved rat. There was an element of truth in what they said. Ginny looked on it, though, not as a danger, but as a problem that had to be dealt with and solved, and the crux of her concern about the inn was whether Harry had created a solution or an obstacle.

She heard him coming back up the stairs and turned to face the room. This inn and her being there meant so much to him, and he had done it so well! She was not surprised that he seemed to know exactly what would please her, what kind of chivalry would melt her heart, even though he had so little experience at it. They had both noticed how tuned in to each other’s feelings and thoughts they were, and here was another example.

The door opened and Harry was back, and Ginny instantly knew that whatever fears she harbored about the inn could never stand up against the feelings that flooded her when she saw his smiling and eager face. She would keep her concerns in the back of her mind, but she would embrace her birthday gift.

“Lunch is ready,” he said, “I hope you’re hungry.”

Winky was standing on a stool next to a cutting board with a knife in each hand chopping walnuts; the blades were moving so fast they were just blurs, making a rapid clacking sound. She put the knives down, and ushered them into the dining room. The chandeliers were still lit and the shutters closed; it made the room seem intimate and private. A single table for two had been placed in the center, covered with a white linen tablecloth. A silver candelabra with a single candle stood on it. All the other tables had been pushed back to the walls.

Harry led Ginny to the table and held a chair for her as she sat. Winky served a luncheon delight: cold potato soup, tossed salad, baked salmon with a buttery lemon sauce, string beans, finished off with ice cream sundaes smothered in chocolate syrup and walnuts. When they were done, Ginny leaned back and put her hand on her stomach. “I’m stuffed. That was as good a meal as my mum ever made.”

Winky cleared the table—there was definitely magic in how quickly the dirty dishes disappeared, and Harry wondered if the elf had brought some techniques with her from Hogwarts. He and Ginny went back to the kitchen, but Winky shooed them away.

“Don’t get in Winky’s way,” she scolded. “Harry and Ginny Pott—Ginny Weasley has their own kitchen upstairs. They should go clean that one if they wants.”

“Let’s go for a walk instead,” Harry laughed. They went out the back door, and Harry glanced up at the wall above the lintel. Ginny watched his face.

“There must be some kind of protection you can put on the building,” she said. “Why don’t you ask Professor Flitwick? We could walk over to Hogwarts and see him.”

Harry chewed on his lip, thinking. “No, I don’t want to get everyone all worked up about it. I don’t think anyone outside the village knows. But you’re right, there must be something, I’ll ask Hermione. The problem is that it wasn’t put up there with magic. They may have used a magical brush, but the Mark itself was only paint. They could have bought it at a Muggle store. And the brush spell wasn’t even Dark magic. What if Tony has to touch up the paint or repair something? I’d have to undo the spell and then put it back on. I’m damned if I I’ll let them keep me from doing what I want.”

To Ginny it didn’t seem like that much trouble, but Harry was clearly adamant, and she didn’t want to argue about anything today. She pulled his arm. “Let’s go, I want to see the castle.”

They walked down the High Street, but as they passed The Three Broomsticks Madam Rosmerta opened the door and waved to them. “Harry! Ginny! Someone said they saw you. Come in for a drink.”

Harry looked at Ginny; she nodded, and they followed the proprietress inside. It was crowded, and Rosmerta led them to her table in the back. As Ginny passed between tables the customers all greeted Harry and smiled at her, but she suddenly felt the hairs on the back of the neck stand up, and a simultaneous urge to pull out her wand.

She glanced around. The inn was full of people enjoying their meals and their drinks, talking and laughing with friends. Something made her look at a table near the door where four younger patrons were sitting, three wizards and a witch. The witch was staring at Harry, and Ginny now knew why her hackles had risen. She stopped and studied the witch with narrowed eyes.

The word that came to Ginny when she looked closely was “slut.” She could only see her from the chest up, and there was plenty to see. Besides her extremely low-cut blouse, she was wearing neon-red lipstick and heavy mascara; her long blonde hair hung loosely, and when she noticed Ginny she tossed it with a casual shake of her head. She picked up a shot glass and flung its contents down in one gulp without taking her eyes from Ginny, then put the glass down and deliberately looked away.

She was now staring at Harry again, who had moved to the back with Rosmerta. Ginny glared at the witch until the hussy looked at her, and held the blonde’s eyes with her own ablaze before turning and joining Harry. She still felt the urge to throw a hex, but decided it wouldn’t be good for Rosmerta’s business if a customer’s face suddenly blossomed with bat bogeys. She sat in a chair with her back to the blonde witch.

A waitress brought over three butterbeers, and Harry introduced her to Ginny. “This is Harriet Smythe, and she’s the one who got me my new barkeep, you’ll never guess who: Stan Shunpike. He worked at the Leaky Cauldron before the Knight Bus.”

“Harry, that’s brilliant!” He had told Ginny all about his confrontation with Stan during his escape from Privet Drive, and she knew how upset he had been. “So you’re a friend of Stan’s?” she asked Harriet.

“Well, maybe a little more than that,” Harriet laughed. “At least I’d like to think so.”

Ginny grinned. “It will be good to see him. I only met him the one time I took the Knight Bus three years ago, and I’m glad he’s not in trouble.”

Harriet left to serve other customers, and Harry and Rosmerta talked business; Rosmerta was trying out some new drinks that had just come on the market, and she offered to sell Harry a sample for the Hog’s Head. Harry accepted, and they were about to leave when Ginny leaned towards Rosmerta.

“Who is that blonde witch sitting near the door?” she said, turning to point her out, but only the three wizards were still there, looking morose; their companion had left.

Ginny looked from Rosmerta to Harry. He was frowning slightly, and Ginny knew that he had either seen the woman when they came in, or had met her before.

Rosmerta was also frowning. “That was Turquoise Southeby. She wanted the cook’s job at Harry’s inn, and she was here for an interview last week.”

“I should have told you,” Harry said, “but she was so ridiculous. Some people even thought she might have put the Dark Mark up because she didn’t get the job, but she had an alibi. I still wouldn’t put it past her.” He looked at the door, and suddenly the inn went quiet and most of the other customers also turned.

Ginny knew without looking who it was, but she was still unprepared for what she saw. Turquoise was about to sit at the table she had left, but she paused, undoubtedly to make sure everyone noticed her. Now she was wearing very tight white shorts and a matching, skimpy halter-top. Before she took her chair, she gazed directly at Harry, and her manner was so brazen that several customers also looked at him.

Ginny heard Harry’s chair scrape the floor and she rose with him. Rosmerta muttered an apology, but Harry waved it off, took Ginny’s arm, and walked her through the crowd to the front of the room. Neither of them looked at Southeby, but when they were a few steps from the door, Harry put his arm around Ginny’s waist and pulled her close. Outside, as they turned towards the railroad station and the lane to Hogwarts, Harry said, without looking at Ginny, and in a voice as angry as she had ever heard from him, “Bitch!”


	13. Morequest Pester

Harry dropped his arm from Ginny’s waist and took her hand as they crossed the tracks and headed up the lane. He started to speak but snapped his mouth shut, and after a moment said, “I was just about to say something nasty, but I thought, that’s exactly what she wants. The hell with that. This is your day, and nothing’s going to spoil it.”

Ginny let out her breath, which she had been holding in anticipation of an explosion. “We should talk about her,” she said tersely.

“What for? She’s trash. As long as she’s not bothering you, I don’t care.” He stopped and turned to her; they were near the gates. “Is she bothering you? I’ll go back and make her stop.”

“No, don’t, Harry. It’s not that. She’s not just trash.” Ginny couldn’t forget the prickly feeling on the back of her neck when she walked into The Three Broomsticks.

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t explain it, but even before I saw her, something made me want to throw a hex.” She smiled a little. “I’m used to your admirers, they don’t bother me, although this one’s gone a little beyond what any girl at Hogwarts ever did, at least as far as I know.”

They started walking again, and both of them looked up at the winged boars perched atop the pillars. Ahead was the castle. Ginny could see no external damage; the hole in Gryffindor Tower’s roof was repaired, in fact it didn’t look like there had ever been a hole.

“Is everything fixed?” she asked.

“I was there last week and I couldn’t see any damage. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Ginny smiled. “I love it.”

“So why did you want to hex her?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t think she’s just a simple tramp.”

“Do you think she painted the Dark Mark?”

“You said she had an alibi. But she’s doing things no normal woman would do in public. Either she’s crazy, or she has other motives.”

“Yeah, but what?”

“I don’t know. Does Rosmerta know anything about her?”

Harry told her what he had learned, and Ginny shook her head. “I can’t figure it out.”

“Well, let’s forget about it. As long as she’s not bothering you, I don’t want to think about her.” They were at the bottom of the steps, and could see the entrance hall inside the open doors. Harry grinned. “They left the doors open. Professor McGonagall must not think she’s a problem, either.”

Ginny laughed. Her spirits had risen again after the brief unpleasantness, and she put her arm through Harry’s as they passed the doors. Looking around, everything seemed exactly as it had been before the battle. The House hourglasses were intact, the upper halves filled with colored jewels. The balustrades were repaired, as were the marble stairs, the walls and the floor. They looked into the Great Hall; the enchanted ceiling was inactive, but sunlight was streaming through the high windows and falling on the four tables, empty now.

They climbed up to Gryffindor Tower, but the Fat Lady refused to let them in without the password. She had a smirk on her face as they tried some random phrases. “Go get it from the Headmistress, if you’re so anxious to go inside. You’ll never guess it.”

They decided to see first if Professor Flitwick was in his office, so they walked around to the West Tower and knocked on his door. When there was no answer they traipsed through the corridors and down several staircases to Professor McGonagall’s office. The portraits along the way greeted them, and the wizards bowed to Ginny, flourishing their hats. The password that Harry had used last week—“Firth of Forth”—still worked. They were carried up the spiral stairs, and knocked on the door.

“Come!” the Headmistress called. Inside, McGonagall was standing at a bookshelf, perusing a large, leather-bound volume, but she put it back on the shelf and smiled when she saw them. “Mr. Potter and Miss Weasley, it’s good to see you.” She went to her desk and sat. “Have a seat. Harry, there’s something I want to discuss with you.”

They took seats in chairs that appeared behind them. “We were wondering if you could give us the password for the Fat Lady,” Harry said. “She wouldn’t let us in.”

“‘Everything’s fine’,” said the Headmistress.

“It is,” smiled Harry. “I’ve got the inn all set up, and we had Winky’s first meal this afternoon.”

“I’m glad to hear that, but I was giving you the password.” Ginny tried to hide a laugh with a hand over her mouth.

“Oh,” said Harry; he grinned at Ginny. “Got it.”

McGonagall also smiled. “Did you just stop by for a visit, then? Well, as long as you’re here, I need to talk about the Dark Mark on your inn, Harry.”

“Oh,” Harry said once again, unpleasantly surprised. He had not wanted news about the Mark to go beyond Hogsmeade, but now he realized how unlikely that hope had been, and wondered who else knew. “It was probably just a prank.”

“Why do you think that?” McGonagall asked. “There are still people out there who wanted Riddle to succeed. Since you are the one who destroyed him, they have a motive.”

“To do what? It was crude, and it was on the back wall where no one would see it. I got rid of it with a simple cleaning charm.”

“Perhaps, but remember, his leaders and his most talented followers are all dead or in prison. The ones remaining are not capable, at least not yet, of doing much more than annoy you.”

Ginny spoke up. “If they’re so inept, why get all worried? Harry is ten times the wizard any of them are. What could they do to him?”

“Probably not much. But word spreads, and others who are not so clumsy but may harbor similar feelings will hear and become encouraged. But that is not my primary concern right now. Whatever happens in Hogsmeade affects Hogwarts. Students go there on weekends. Parents and other visitors often stay there. It is one of our windows into the wizarding world. Do you see why someone’s defacing your building with a Dark Mark concerns me?”

“Yes,” Harry admitted, “but if it was just a kid trying to be funny, I still don’t see why all the fuss. They had their fun, and that’s the end of it.”

He was growing annoyed. Ever since he had arrived in Hogsmeade with Ginny he had wanted to put the Dark Mark behind him. If the perpetrator was nothing more than a local truant, he knew that he or Tony or Rosmerta could deal with it. He did not want headmistresses or Aurors or anyone else sticking their wands into it. It would mean nothing but problems and interference with him and Ginny.

McGonagall peered at him over her eyeglasses, eyebrows arched. “I am not making a fuss, Harry, I am doing my job, which is first and foremost the safety of my students. Surely you were aware that one of the few things that made Professor Dumbledore irritable was questioning his commitment to the security of Hogwarts. Maybe it was just a ‘kid’ as you say, but maybe it was someone with more serious intentions.”

Harry glanced at the wall behind McGonagall and saw that Dumbledore’s portrait was empty, and realized that contention was counterproductive because, simply, he would not be able to keep the Headmistress’s nose out of The Hog’s Head if she wanted it there. He tried deflection.

“What I was thinking of doing was to ask Professor Flitwick about protective charms, maybe even some detection spells to let me know when someone is out back."

“It’s an excellent idea to see Professor Flitwick. Maybe he can even make it an assignment as part of your private lessons.”

Harry glanced at Ginny; they both stood. “He wasn’t in his office when we stopped by,” Harry said. “Maybe we’ll look for him later.”

McGonagall nodded and wished them good day. “But remember, Harry, whatever happens in Hogsmeade concerns me.”

Back in the corridor Ginny grinned at Harry. “Yes, an excellent Idea,” she repeated the Headmistress’s line.

Harry shrugged. “I didn’t want to fight with her. She’s good friends with Rosmerta, so she’s going to know whatever happens in Hogsmeade. And she’s right, too. It’s her job. I just don’t want a lot of official-types sticking their noses into the inn. Just leave me the hell alone!”

Ginny looked at him in surprise. “What’s wrong, Harry? No one’s trying to meddle. If there are followers of Riddle still out there, people need to know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Harry said more calmly as they stood again in front of the Fat Lady. “It’s just . . . Ginny, don’t you see? I just want to be with you. That’s the reason I’m doing all this, and every time someone or something gets in the way, I get frustrated. My whole life, I’ve been told what to do. The Dursleys, Dumbledore . . .” He shook his head.

“Don’t, love,” she said softly. “It will all be wonderful. It _will_ be just you and me, and I can’t wait for school to start. I’ll be Quidditch captain and I’ll be with you. I don’t care about anything else.” She kissed him, and the Fat Lady coughed. They both looked at her. “Everything’s fine,” said Ginny. “It really is.”

“So it seems,” the portrait sniffed. She swung back and they climbed through into the common room.

Harry stood before the fireplace and gazed around. Everything was in its place and ready for school to begin; there was none of the clutter and disorder that marked the term from day one, after the first students had arrived. There was no fire in the fireplace, but Harry’s favorite battered old easy chair was there and he put his hand on it. “I’ll miss this place. I missed it last year.”

Ginny had hesitated by the portrait hole. “Harry, let’s go back to Hogsmeade.”

Harry turned. “Okay, but I thought you wanted to see the castle.”

”I did, but . . . I have an idea.”

Harry’s plaint out in the hallway had disturbed Ginny. His words recalled her thoughts up in the flat before lunch, just an hour or two earlier. The day had been so special, so full of happy things and love, that she didn’t want his spirits to slide into a pit—or even a little hole—and ruin an almost perfect day. Instead, what she had in mind would help Harry complete his dream of a home for them.

They left—the Fat Lady “toodle-ooing” them off—and started down the corridor to the stairs. “What’s your idea?” Harry asked. “Do you want to go back to the flat?” He looked at her hopefully.

“Not right away,” Ginny giggled. “I thought . . . maybe . . . we could Apparate to Diagon Alley and buy some things.”

“A shopping trip?”

“Yes!” Ginny took his arm. “There’s so many new shops there. Hermione was telling me about some of them. We could get almost everything we need, and have our pictures taken. We’d still be able to get back in time for dinner.”

“Okay, if that’s what you want. Should you tell your . . .” Harry didn’t finish the sentence when he saw her frown, but he laughed. “Sorry, I forgot. We’re on our own.”

They walked back to the inn and told Winky what they were doing, and left her with a message for Ron and Hermione in case they arrived first. Ginny took Harry’s arm and in a moment they were in Diagon Alley in front of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. They went in and saw Lee Jordan behind the counter. He waved and they pushed their way to him through the crowded store.

“Happy birthday, and how was the party, Ginny?” he greeted them.

Ginny told him about her presents as Harry looked around. The shop appeared to be thriving with a few dozen customers and their children wandering around or buying jokes. Two of the young witches who had been at Fred’s funeral were also behind the counter. Ginny chatted with Lee for a while; he knew about the inn, and congratulated Harry and told him he would be up for a firewhiskey after it opened. They told Lee they would stop back before returning home, and went out into the busy street.

Hermione was right, there were many new businesses, and all of the Dark Arts shops that Harry had seen when he broke into Gringotts were gone. Ginny pulled him into Kolarovski’s, a rug emporium specializing in Persian rugs, and Harry walked out poorer by several hundred Galleons but the owner of two new floor coverings, an intricate Persian for the bedroom and a very thick, red shag for in front of the fireplace.

Next door was a new bookstore called The Crooked Mile, and they went inside to compare their prices with Flourish and Blotts. But when the owner saw Harry, she shrieked and threw herself at him and began sobbing on his chest. He looked at Ginny in bewilderment. When they finally got her calmed down, she told them that she was one of the Muggle-borns who Harry had rescued in the Department of Mysteries. She had been cowering on the floor outside the hearing room with the others when Harry and Hermione had burst out, wielding their Patronuses and driving the dementors away.

After she escaped from the Ministry, she found her family and they went into hiding in Ireland where her husband had relatives. Now they were back in England, and she had opened the bookstore with gold from a compensation fund set up for people who had been persecuted by the Death Eater regime.

“Bless Kingsley Shacklebolt,” she said as she wiped tears from her face, “and bless you, Harry Potter. You saved my life and my children’s lives.”

Harry mumbled his thanks, and asked if she had any books on advanced charms and spells. The witch took them to a small section of charms books. “I don’t carry too many of these,” she said. “I can’t compete with the big boys down the block. I specialize mostly in sports. My husband used to play Quidditch, and my two boys love sports.” She glanced at Harry as though she wanted to ask him something, and when he had finished looking over two or three volumes, she spoke to him.

“Mr. Potter, do you know what happened to that witch who was running those hearings? She looked like a fat little toad.”

Harry snorted. “That’s her exactly. Dolores Umbridge, evil personified. I don’t know where she is. I never asked, but I suppose she’s in Azkaban.” He frowned for a moment. “I’m sure she is, otherwise I would have heard that she had escaped.”

“Are you certain? I’m asking because my children still have nightmares about her. She questioned them when I was arrested, terrorized them is more like it, and when she comes to trial I want to testify against her.” The woman was close to tears again.

Harry touched her hand. “I’m glad you all got away. I’ll try to find out where she is.”

They left the store with Ginny’s arm in Harry’s. “How quickly we forget,” he said as they walked along. “It was bad enough for me and your family, but for someone like them, they had to choose between leaving the country and maybe dying or losing their children.”

As they strolled down the Alley, they began to notice people looking at them, and heard a few whispers as they passed. They ducked into Hippolites’ Home Furnishings, next door to Gringotts, and Ginny started picking out kitchenware. The clerk recognized Harry, and hovered over them in a most irritating way, constantly asking if they needed help or offering advice for the young couple setting up house for the first time. That got Harry extremely annoyed, and he wanted to leave, but by then Ginny had already selected dishes, utensils, pots, pans, mugs, glasses, and even a few small, framed pictures of magical British landscapes, and she told the clerk, kindly but firmly, to leave them alone or else lose the sale. He retreated behind his counter, but watched them until they came to pay.

“Find everything you were looking for?” he asked cheerfully. “We can always special order, you know. Have you seen our catalog? We have other stores in Lancaster and Plymouth, if you ever happen to be there.”

He chattered on, obviously not wanting the famous Harry Potter to leave. Other customers began to drift over, gawking, until Harry decided to lure them away so they wouldn’t bother Ginny. He started walking aimlessly around the shop, the crowd following him, until he saw that Ginny was finished. He went to the counter, quickly paid, and they left.

“Let’s just get our pictures taken,” Harry said. “This is getting on my nerves.”  They walked past Gringotts, and Harry saw that the damage caused by the escaping dragon was repaired. The goblin guards standing in front recognized him, though, and one of them scurried inside. “Probably warning them to beef up security,” Harry laughed. They continued on to the apothecary that stood near the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron; in a photographer’s studio in the back they had their pictures taken. They bought frames, conveniently on sale in the front, and steeled themselves for the walk back to Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes.

“This is so strange,” Ginny said as they walked as quickly as they could without actually running, attracting stares. “No one ever paid any attention to me like this. I guess it goes with the territory.”

Harry grinned. “So you’ll stick it out with me?”

“Through thick and thin. I just furnished our flat, so I have to.” They laughed together until they got to the joke shop.

“Did you get waylaid?” Lee asked them. “People were coming in talking about seeing you out there.”

“Yeah, but there was only one really obnoxious one,” Harry said. They showed him the photographs and, as dusk began to fall, Disapparated back to Hogsmeade, appearing in the kitchen where they had left from.

Winky was not there, but light came from the dining room. Ron and Hermione were sitting at the bar and Winky was behind it on a stool, trying to get the butterbeer keg to work. She was vigorously pumping the handle, sweat pouring down her face and dripping onto the bar, muttering to herself and surprising Harry with some of the words coming out of her mouth.

“There’s nothing in the keg yet,” Harry said as he and Ginny joined them. “We won’t be getting any butterbeer or anything else in for another couple of weeks.”

“Well, why doesn’t Harry Potter say so?” Winky glared at him, wiped her face with a bar towel, threw it down on the counter and jumped off the stool. When she appeared from behind the bar she threw Harry another dirty look and stalked into the kitchen, slamming the door behind her.

“I never told her to tend bar,” Harry said apologetically to Hermione. “I hope she’ll cook dinner.”

“So you went to Diagon Alley?” Ron asked as they moved to a table and sat down together. Harry showed them the photos they had taken in the apothecary. “Why didn’t you tell us? We could have come along.”

“We were shopping,” Ginny answered when Harry hesitated. “For the flat. It was fun.”

“Really?” said Hermione. “Where did you go? Did you see that cute new clothing store next to Eeylops? I saw a dress there I wanted to try on, but this one—” she pointed at Ron with her thumb “— didn’t want to be late for your party, which we got to three full days ahead of time, in case you didn’t notice.” She said the last directly to Ron, who shrugged.

“I hate shopping,” he said to Harry. “I never knew I did until I had to wait an hour and a half in Madam Malkin’s while she tried on robes for her new job. I actually thought I had died. I think my heart really did stop beating, I was so bored.”

“It was only twenty minutes, and the reason you waited was because those two witches were running in and out of the dressing room without bothering to close the door. I told you if you waited in the Quidditch store I’d stop by for you.”

Ron shrugged again. “Anyway, I do hate shopping, so more power to you, mate, if you actually liked it.”

“I did, except for the people following us around. Wait till you see the great rugs we bought. And we can eat up there now. Ginny picked out plates and stuff.”

“We’ve never seen your flat,” Hermione said.

“That’s right! Come on!” Harry jumped up and they all followed him through the kitchen where Winky was busy at the sink and didn’t look up, and into the vestibule. Harry opened the back door and stepped outside. “Here’s where the Dark Mark was.” He pointed above the door. Hermione looked at it, also around at the field behind the building, and pointed to Dervish and Banges at the top of the High Street.

“There’s a clear view from there,” she said. “Did you ask if they saw anything?”

“I didn’t myself, but I assume Tony did. That would be an obvious place to start. I’ll ask him.”

Harry led them back inside and up to the flat. Nothing had been delivered from Diagon Alley, so Ginny described the rugs and the kitchenware they had bought. “All we need now is some furniture, easy chairs, a few end tables, and dressers for the bedroom.” She smiled as Harry put the two photographs on the mantel.

Ron looked at Harry. “Dressers?” he emphasized the plural, but Harry didn’t hear.

“Ginny’s fabulous,” he was saying. “I had no idea what to get or where to buy it. And everything is perfect! The Persian rug is five hundred years old, and it’s beautiful. I can’t wait to get it, it’ll go right in there.” He pointed through the open bedroom door, Ginny smiled again, and Ron looked at Hermione with a slight roll of his eyes.

“Don’t you love domestic bliss?” he said. “Seriously, if Harry Potter has nothing to worry about except where to lay his rug, then all must be right with the world. Voldemort is truly dead.”

“We were up at the castle today too,” Ginny said. “It’s all fixed. It’s as good as new.”

“They ought to put up a monument to all the house-elves who repaired it,” Hermione said. “It shows how loyal they are.”

“They showed that when they jumped the Death Eaters in the Great Hall,” Ron said. “I think it’s more than loyalty. I wonder if elves were the ones who built Hogwarts in the first place, the ones who did the actual work.”

“I’m sure they were. They must have . . .”

Hermione stopped and looked at Harry and Ginny; Ron was watching them too. They had completely tuned out the conversation; Harry was holding Ginny’s hand to his lips, and she was talking to him in a whisper while her hand caressed his face. They were oblivious to Ron and Hermione’s stares. Ron pulled out his wand, conjured a small silver bell that floated above their heads and started it to ring.

For a moment nothing happened. Finally, the loving couple both glanced up at the tinkling sound, but only for a moment; they quickly went back to gazing at each other until Ron and Hermione started roaring with laughter.

“You two were completely alone there, weren’t you?” Ron chortled. “Come on, lovers. We came here for dinner. You shouldn’t keep your guests waiting. Winky is probably sulking because we’re ignoring her.”

They went downstairs to find that Winky had indeed finished preparing dinner. She pushed them into the dining room, where this time a table for four was set, again with white linen and silver service, including the candelabra. The chandeliers were blazing, and the whole room radiated light. The shutters were open, and they could see that the lights from inside lit up the dark lane in front of the inn. Harry peered out a window. He was smiling when he turned back. “It’s exactly what I want. This place was so gloomy, but now look at it.”

“It’s lovely,” said Hermione. “You did a perfect job.”

Winky began serving, and soon the table was overflowing with a fried clam appetizer, salads, hot dinner rolls, and butterbeer. The main course was thick, juicy slices of roast beef and steamy baked potatoes with sautéed vegetables. Before she brought out dessert, Winky placed four blue bottles on the table and brought four glasses from the bar.

“Madam Rosmerta sends us this new drink,” said the elf as corks flew out of the bottles. They tilted and their frothy red contents poured into the glasses. Harry took a sip.

“Mmm, delicious. What’s it called?” He picked up a bottle and read the label. It showed a smiling young witch holding a glass of the same drink; she raised it to her lips, chugged it down, and winked. Above her picture, in bright red letters, were the words, “Potio Vitae—A Drink For Life.”

“A couple of joints in Diagon Alley are selling it,” Ron said as he also took a sip. “It’s very popular, but I don’t like it that much.” Ginny agreed by making a face after she tasted it, but Hermione drank hers down.

“I like it,” she said. “It’s fruity but not too sweet.”

“I guess it’s not a Weasley thing,” Harry said as he finished his. He leaned back in his chair. “I wonder what’s for dessert?”

Ron also kicked back and put his hands behind his head. “So, Harry,” he said, “are you keeping the name, or will you pick a different one?”

“I can’t make up my mind. Even if I keep it, that sign is gone. I’m open to suggestions for a name and a new sign.”

“How about Gin’s Joint?” Ron said with a sideways glance at his sister.

“How about you try on some bat bogeys for a month.” Ginny made a spell-casting motion with her finger.

“Don’t you want your picture up over a door with hundreds of people going in and out?” Ron laughed. “You could be famous.”

“Very funny, but no thanks. I’ve seen what happens when you’re famous. If you want it, you can have it. We’ll repaint the sign with _your_ head on it instead of the pig’s.”

There was a loud crash of breaking glass and a large rock bounced off the bar onto the floor. Shards of glass flew across the room and they all ducked and covered their heads with their arms. Before anyone could move, a small brown object sailed through the broken window and landed with a soft thud on the floor near the table, almost under Ron’s feet.

Harry jumped up, his wand in hand, and ran to the door. He flung it open. _”Lumos!”_ he cried. In the flare of his wand he could see several figures running around the side of the inn.

“Out back!” he shouted to Ron, who was right behind him. Ron turned and ran to the kitchen door, followed by Hermione. Harry darted out front with Ginny at his heels, and they tore after the shadowy shapes. A loud bang and a flash of red filled the air. Someone screamed, and there were more red flashes. Harry came around back and saw the shadows running across the field. He sent a Stunning spell at them, but he swore as it flew high. A red flame shot over his shoulder and one of the figures flew through the air and crashed into a tree, hit the trunk and slid to the ground, motionless. The others disappeared across the field into the night.

“Nice!” Harry grinned at Ginny, whose wand was still pointing at the body.

They looked towards the back door. Hermione and Ron stood in the light from inside, their wands in their hands. Hermione’s was now lit, illuminating a wide area behind the inn. Doors in nearby buildings opened, and people peeked out.

“I got one!” Ron called. “He’s right here.” He pointed to a form on the ground near the elm tree.

“Ginny, too,” Harry said. “A good night for the Weasleys. Did you see how many got away?”

Ron and Hermione joined them, and they all looked down at the Stunned body of a young man. His clothes were rough and shabby, and he needed a shave; his boots were worn, with holes in the soles.

“I think there were two others, maybe three,” Hermione said. “Does anyone recognize this one?” She pointed her wand at his face.

Harry looked closely, and turned to Ginny who was also bent over the man. She shook her head. “I don’t think he was one of the blokes sitting with Southeby. What about the other one?”

“Wait here,” Ron went back to the elm tree and Levitated the inert form; it floated towards the others, its arms and legs dangling, and Ron set it on the ground. He went through the pockets of both men, and pulled a wand from the one that Ginny had hit. “I don’t think this one has a wand.” He looked puzzled. “Did anyone see a wand lying around?”

“Maybe he’s a Squib,” Hermione said. “That would be strange, though, a Squib tagging along with wizards to do something like this.”

Harry and Ginny had examined the second one, who was as scruffy as the first.

Ginny put her wand away. “Nope. Neither one was at The Three Broomsticks.”

“What happened there?” Ron asked. Ginny told him about meeting Rosmerta, and Turquoise Southeby’s performance.

“There were three men sitting with her, but not these,” Ginny finished.

“Blimey, I’m surprised Rosmerta puts up with her.”

“So what do we do now?” Ginny said. “Why don’t we wake them up?”

“We should notify the Ministry,” Hermione stated. “They committed a crime. Maybe they’re the ones who made the Dark Mark.”

They all looked at Harry; he had already decided to do that. Things were starting to get out of hand, and he wanted to resolve it all as quickly as possible. He glanced first at Ginny, who was watching him, frowning, and then back at their two captives. A surge of anger took him; he was not going to allow thugs like these to ruin this place he had made for him and Ginny.

“I’ll go to the post office and send an owl. Someone should go inside and check out the dining room. And see if Winky is okay.”

He went off at a trot up to the High Street, thinking about Hedwig. It only took a minute at the post office to write a note and hand it to the night clerk. “Got a helluva fast one all ready to go, Mr. Potter,” the old witch said cheerfully. “He’ll be back pretty damn quick too.” Harry thanked her and headed back to the inn. He found the others still standing over the bodies, but Ron was holding something in his hands, and Harry recognized the brown lump that had been thrown through the window.

“It’s a dead weasel,” Ron said in a tense voice when he saw Harry. Ginny was looking off into the darkness, but when she turned he saw sadness and hurt in her eyes. His anger surged at the sight, and he turned to the inert forms on the ground and pulled out his wand.

Ginny grabbed his arm. “Harry, don’t! You’ll just get in trouble. Remember what you told me on the beach? Let the Aurors handle it. They’ll be here soon.”

Harry took a deep breath and walked off a few paces until his anger subsided. “I’m okay,” he said after a moment, but through clenched teeth. He pointed his wand at the first man. ” _Petrificus totalus! Rennervate!”_ The man went rigid and his eyes opened, looking up blankly.

“He’s Imperiused!” Harry exclaimed. He did the same to the other, who also looked around as though he was seeing nothing. “Dammit! These two are just stooges, we’ll never learn anything from them.” He looked at Hermione. “Can we lift the Curse?”

“Maybe,” she said doubtfully. “I know it’s possible, but it depends on how well the Curse was placed, and how good you are, if you want to lift it. But you can hurt them if you do it wrong. I think we should just let it wear off, or wait until someone from the Ministry gets here.”

“Harry, look at this.” Ron had been examining the dead weasel, turning it over and running his fingers through its fur. He now held the animal up, cupped in both hands. “There’s no mark on it that I can see. Its eyes are open, but it doesn’t look startled or frightened. I think someone used a Killing Curse on it.”

For a moment they stood in silence. Harry looked at the Stunned bodies on the ground. “These two didn’t do it, even if they’re both wizards. They can’t even keep themselves clean or patch their shoes. Someone else did it and gave it to them to toss into the inn, someone around here.”

He looked at his friends, his inn, the captives, and the dead weasel. Ginny took his hand, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes and pulled his hand away. She grabbed it back.

“Harry, we’re all here with you. The Ministry can find out who put these two up to it. We have one of their wands, and they can also use Veritaserum—”

“They won’t,” Ron interrupted. “Kingsley banned it, at least until the Wizengamot decide what to do. He says it’s wrong to force someone to talk.”

“Well, that’s great,” Harry said. “These two get off because they’re Imperiused and I get my inn destroyed. Wonderful.”

“But Harry,” Hermione spoke, “it’s like Percy said when Greyback was killed. If you want justice, you have to apply it the same way to everyone, otherwise there’s no justice for anyone.”

“Spare me the lecture, Hermione. What’s so wrong with making someone you know committed a crime tell the truth? I’m pissed off, can’t you understand? I—we have plans, Ginny’s party is in three days and—” He scowled down at the captives. “Ginny, I don’t think I can go back to the Burrow tonight. I can’t leave the inn alone.”

Ginny eyes blazed. “I’m staying with you.”

“Ginny! That’s ridiculous, you can’t—” Ron started but Harry cut him off.

“Ginny, you don’t have to do that,” he said, but Ginny ignored him and glared at her brother.

“Shut up, Ron. If you don’t want to tell Mum and Dad that I won’t be home, then I’ll send an owl. But I’m staying with Harry.”

Ron gave Harry a disgruntled look, while Harry shook his head. “Ginny, it’s my problem.”

She whirled on him, thrust her face to an inch of his, and started poking his chest with her finger, making a point with each stab. “Oh, so you did all this—” she waved her hand at the inn “—for me, as you’ve been telling me all day, and now you think you can pack me off home like a child? I just spent an afternoon helping you make a _home_ here, which you told me was _our_ home, but now it’s _your_ problem? I don’t think so, Harry.”

Harry had never been the object of an explosion of Ginny’s temper. On the beach at Shell Cottage she had seethed and had spoken angrily, but without such righteous vehemence. He looked at her, chagrined.

“No, I didn’t mean—Ginny!” She had turned her back on him; he grabbed her shoulder and spun her around, took her face in his hands and before she could speak again, kissed her. She slowly put her arms around him; Ron and Hermione looked at each other and Hermione giggled nervously.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said, letting her face go. “Please stay with me?”

She peered up into his eyes. “I will always stay with you. Please never ask me to go away again.”

“Never, I promise.” He kissed her.

“Well, I’m glad that’s settled,” Ron grunted. “I’ll just stop by the Burrow and announce that Ginny is spending the night at the Hog’s Head Inn with Harry. If I only tell Dad, maybe I can be in Albania before he tells Mum. If I don’t make it, you can bury me next to Fred.”

The others laughed, although Ron didn’t look like he thought he had made a joke. “She’ll be fine, Ron,” Ginny said. “We’ve talked about things.”

“Easy for you to say, three hundred miles away.”

There was a loud pop, and an Auror Apparated next to the inn. He was tall and lanky, with reddish-blond hair and a handsome face; he looked quite young. He peered around, taking in the two bodies on the ground and the four standing over them.

“Weasley,” he said with a nod, and walked over to join them. “We got an owl at the office from Mr. Potter—” he nodded to Harry “—about a disturbance up here. Did these two do it?” He pointed to the figures on the ground. “Any wands?”

“Um, this is Pester,” Ron mumbled to Harry, as he handed the wand to the Auror. “I mean, Auror Pester. Auror Morequest Pester, I mean. Uh, these are Hermione Granger and my sister, Ginny. I mean, this is Hermione and this is Ginny. Uh . . .” He stopped his fumbling and turned red. The Auror shook his head.

“What happened, Potter? What kind of disturbance? Your owl mentioned a broken window. Was that all?” He spoke brusquely, almost as if he was bored, and looked at Harry.

Harry was taken aback by Pester’s patronizing attitude. “Well, yeah, but—”

“And what is that?” The Auror indicated the dead weasel cradled in Ron’s hands.

Ron plucked up some courage. “It’s a weasel, a dead weasel. They threw it into the inn after they broke the window. I think it was killed with an Avada Kedavra.”

This got the Auror’s attention. “Let me see that,” he said, still brusquely but no longer bored. He took the weasel, examined it, then stuffed the carcass into a leather sack which he took from a pocket, and hung it from a hook on his belt.

“What are you going to do with it?” Ginny asked.

“Sometimes you can trace the wand from the spell. But Unforgivables do no physical damage, and the Killing Curse leaves no magical trace, so it’s not likely we’ll find anything. But we’ll try. So tell me, Miss Weasley,” he said without pausing, “have you heard from Elizabeth Derby’s uncles?”

Ginny glared at Pester. Harry wondered if the Auror saw the danger in her eyes, and hoped Ginny would keep her cool. As Ginny hesitated, he held his breath, Hermione looked alarmed, and Ron gritted his teeth with a scowl. “If I do, I’ll let your boss know right away,” she said steadily. “I wouldn’t want to add to your heavy workload.” Her eyes went to the sack at his belt.

Pester’s eyes flicked from her to Harry and back. “That’s considerate of you,” he said with a sardonic smile. He turned to Harry. “May I see where this all happened? Weasley, stay here with these two.” He indicated the prisoners. Ron looked at Harry and Hermione in disbelief and started to protest, but Pester had already turned away.

Without a word, Harry led the Auror through the back door and into the kitchen. He heard Ginny following, and smiled to himself. _Don’t mess with Weasley women_ , he thought. _Some of them only skewer you, but some of them kill_.

Winky wasn’t in the kitchen. They found her standing in the middle of the dining room armed with her trusty ladle. Pester went to the broken window and peered through it. After a moment he took out his wand and walked around the room, gesturing at the walls and the floor and muttering incantations. Harry and Ginny glanced at each other; neither one recognized any of the spells. The Auror touched the rock lying on the floor with his wand, and it briefly glowed yellow; he picked it up, put it in his pocket and kept walking.  Finally he stopped in front of Winky.

_Winky wasn’t in the kitchen. They found her standing in the middle of the dining room armed with her trusty ladle. Pester went to the broken window and peered through it. After a moment he took out his wand and walked around the room, gesturing at the walls and the floor and muttering incantations. Harry and Ginny glanced at each other; neither one recognized any of the spells. The Auror touched the rock lying on the floor with his wand, and it briefly glowed yellow; he picked it up, put it in his pocket and kept walking.  Finally he stopped in front of Winky._

“Where was the elf when this happened?” he asked Harry.

“She had nothing to do with it. She’s my house-elf.”

“That’s obvious, Potter. She’s not a suspect. Sometimes elves see things that people don’t.” He looked disdainfully at Harry.

“Oh. Sorry. She was in the kitchen.” Harry felt Ginny behind him, and wished he had been as quick-witted with the Auror’s arrogance as she was. He glanced at her and she touched his hand.

Pester went outside, leaving the door open behind him. Harry started to follow, but had to take out his wand and put up a repellent spell when a small cloud of moths and other insects flew into the room towards the chandeliers. When the Auror came back through the departing bugs he waved his hand at them, but left the door open. Harry scowled and flicked his wand at the door, which slammed shut. Pester ignored it and waved his own wand at the shards of glass that still littered the floor. ” _Reparo,”_ he said offhandedly, and the pieces of glass floated back to the window and formed a new pane in the empty frame.

“That’s it, then,” he said. “You’ll get a copy of my report. I’m taking the prisoners.” Without another word he went back into the kitchen; Harry and Ginny had to scramble to follow. He went outside to the two captives, not looking at Ron or Hermione, grasped the men by their arms, and all three disappeared.

“What an arrogant twit!” said Ginny. “How does someone like that get to be an Auror?”

Ron barked a short laugh. “Despite his personality. He’s one of the best, otherwise he’d be sleeping on a vent in Diagon Alley. Everyone hates him.”

“I’ve heard of him,” Hermione said. “They say he worked at the Institute for a few months but nobody could stand him.”

“One thing about him, though,” Ron added, “he’s Muggle-born, and they say that when the Death Eaters took over, some of them wanted to arrest him right away, but Riddle himself wanted to keep him. They say he told Thicknesse to shove his wand up his digestive tract and walked out.”

“How come he knows you?” Harry asked.

“The Auror training program. He runs it.”

“Well, there’s an incentive not to sign up,” Harry grunted. “The next time Kingsley asks me to join, I’ll tell him Mr. Pester thinks I’m too stupid.”

They trooped back inside, where Winky was cleaning up in the kitchen. “Is they wanting dessert?” she squeaked.

Harry looked at the others. “Not tonight. I’m sorry, Winky. It’s late.” She shrugged and went back to scrubbing the counters.

“Yeah, we need to be going,” Ron said. “Uh, Ginny, should I tell Mum and Dad when you’ll be home?”

“Before noon.” She looked at Harry and he nodded. “And thanks, Ron. I owe you.”

“You sure do.” He took Hermione’s arm, they both waved and Disapparated.

“I’d better check the dining room,” Harry said, feeling strangely nervous now that Ron and Hermione were gone. Ginny, too, seemed jumpy. They went to the dining room and Harry strode from window to window, flicking his wand and closing the shutters. He sealed each one and the door. “That’ll keep thugs out, at least. We’ll have to tell Winky not to sleep outside.” He lit his wand and extinguished all the candles.

They went back to the kitchen, but Winky was not in sight. They poked around and finally found her curled up inside a small cupboard near the fireplace, snoring quietly on a blanket and pillow. They tip-toed out of the kitchen into the vestibule; Harry sealed the back door, and, with his wand still lit, led Ginny up the stairs. Inside the parlor they looked at each other.

“I don’t know why I’m nervous,” Ginny giggled. “Let’s sit for a bit.”

When they walked around the love seat, Ginny gave a squeal. “The rug! It’s here!”

The red shag was on the floor between the hearth and the love seat. Ginny took off her shoes and socks and stepped onto it and wiggled her toes in the plush pile. “Ooh, this is nice. Hey, I wonder if the kitchen things came too.” She went into the kitchen with Harry right behind and opened a drawer. “It’s all here! We can eat up here tomorrow morning.” She looked at Harry. “Let’s see if the other rug came.”

“Yes, let’s.” He took her hand and they crossed the parlor to the bedroom. Harry held up his wand, pushed the door open and they looked in. The Persian rug was on the floor, covering most of it, a perfect complement to the four-poster.

Ginny started to walk into the room, but Harry held back. “I thought you wanted to sit for a while.”

Ginny came back, put her arms around him and pulled him into the bedroom. “No, you must have mis-heard me.”

“I must have.” He kissed her. “Um, we don’t have pajamas. Do you want me to conjure up a pair for you?”

Ginny kissed him back. “That’s a terrible idea.” As they kissed again, they both reached out at the same time and pushed the door closed. Tonight there would be no Dark Marks, no broken glass or dead animals, no world. Tonight would be only the bed and themselves.


	14. The Big Bash

Neither Harry nor Ginny slept much that night, but it was not because they were troubled about the inn or an intruder. Nor was it out of frustration, which had kept them awake when they were staying at Shell Cottage. It was because whenever either one moved in his or her sleep, the other awoke and could not fall asleep again, but lay there in wonderment—almost disbelief—knowing that they were sleeping together for the first time, knowing that their lover was under the same snug covers in their magnificent bed, and could be touched simply by reaching out a hand.

Whenever they awoke in the night, they reveled in that closeness, in watching the other’s quiet, rhythmical breathing, in touching the face lying so close on the pillow. The presence of the other, so intimate, so vulnerable, was magical.

Once, when Harry awoke, Ginny was lying on her side with her back to him. He put his face into her hair and breathed her smell, losing all sense of anything but her body next to his. His hands wandered, and she woke with a long sigh and turned over to face him.

Later, and after they had fallen asleep again, Ginny awoke and found Harry sleeping on his back. She rested her head on his chest with her hand across his stomach, tickling his navel until he opened his eyes and pulled her on top.

They slept late and were awakened by the aroma of bacon and coffee.

“Smells good,” came Ginny’s voice from under the covers as Harry sat up and yawned. He pushed the covers back and got out of bed; Ginny pulled them back up to her chin. “Get me some breakfast.” She wiggled her feet under the covers.

“I’ll be right back.” Harry went into the parlor where the sun was streaming through the picture window; it looked like another gorgeous day, and he felt no dark mood lingering from yesterday. He walked to the window and looked out, but suddenly realized he was standing there stark naked. He hastily retreated into the bedroom.

“That was fast,” Ginny laughed, sitting up. “Did you forget something?” Her tousled hair kept falling onto her face and she pinned it back with two barrettes she retrieved from the night table. She looked up and saw Harry watching, his eyes on the locket resting on her bosom. “Hey!” She covered her chest with her arms. “My breakfast!” Harry picked his jeans off the floor and pulled them on, grinning at Ginny, and left the room again. “I hope no one was up in that tree!” Ginny called after him. “Don’t be long, I’m starving!”

Harry followed his nose into the little kitchen and found two trays on the table laden with breakfast: pumpkin juice, slices of toast, bacon, sausages, fresh melon slices, home fries, and mugs of hot coffee. A pitcher of pumpkin juice and a tub of butter sat on the counter and a pot of coffee was warming on the stove

Marveling at the magical powers of an ordinary house-elf, Harry carried one tray into the bedroom—in his haste he had left his wand next to the bed—and put it on Ginny’s night stand. He went back with his wand and Levitated his own tray, the coffee pot, the pitcher of pumpkin juice, and the butter, and followed them out of the kitchen, across the parlor, and into the bedroom. Ginny had put her blouse on—to Harry’s sorrow—and was sitting up and eating. He passed her the butter and a knife, and sat down in bed to attack his own breakfast. As he devoured it, Ginny recalled Fleur’s comments at breakfast in the Great Hall two days after the battle, urging Harry to keep up his strength.

Harry finally sat back with a satisfied belch and patted his stomach.

“How does she do it?” he wondered. “It was all waiting on the kitchen table, and it was still hot.”

Ginny took a left-over slice of bacon from Harry’s plate. “I’m beginning to change my mind about house-elves. If Mum had one—” she stopped and put a hand over her mouth. “Uh, oh. What time is it? They’ll start worrying pretty soon if I don’t get back.”

As if in answer, they heard the chirping of an owl and scrabbling noises at the window next to Ginny’s side of the bed. Harry got up and pulled back the curtains; Pigwidgeon was perched on the sill outside, his leg lifted with a message attached.

“Hello, Pig,” Harry said as he opened the window. The owl hopped inside and peered around the room while Harry took the message and read it. “Ron says your mum and dad are okay, but your mum says you should come home as soon as possible. You have a party to prepare for, quote unquote.”

“She’s right,” Ginny said. “You might as well send Pig back, though, we don’t have anything to write with.” The owl hooted once and flew off,

They dressed and Harry took the trays to the kitchen. When he came back into the parlor he saw Ginny in the bedroom making the bed. He started to open the door to the stairs, but she called out, “Where are you going? We didn’t say good morning yet.”

They stood in front of the picture window and she took his hands. “I just spent the best night of my life with you. Good morning, Harry Potter.”

“Good morning, Ginny Weasley. Me too.” He brushed a wisp of hair from her face, and she put her arms around his neck. Harry glanced out the window. Fields and meadows lay gleaming under the early morning summer sun and leaves on the elm tree rustled in a gentle breeze. “Things sure look better in the light of day, especially after a night like that.”

Ginny broke the long silence that followed with a sigh. “I really need to get back. You can come later, if you want to stay.”

“I don’t need to stay. There’s nothing I can do. Winky will be here and now the Aurors know something’s going on.” He thought for a moment. “If anything does happen, it’ll just give us more clues as to who’s doing it.”

“Unless they do some real damage.”

“I don’t think that’s what they want, and that would take a lot of people and a lot of effort. I think what they’re after is just to get at me, maybe through you, but it’s me they want, not the inn.”

Ginny pressed her lips together and frowned. “Through me? Do you still think that?”

“No, Gin. I’m not saying it’s too dangerous for you.” He grinned. “I already learned that lesson. I’m just saying it because it makes sense.” He pulled her close and held her as he stroked her hair. “I’m not afraid for you anymore. I just want to be with you and help get ready for the party.”

The events of the past twenty-four hours had driven Harry to two conclusions. One, it was more important to him to be with Ginny than to stand guard over a building, even if he had put so much time and effort into making it a special place for her. And two, her burst of anger last night, followed by her quick and total forgiveness, brought home how much Ginny felt the same about him. And the magic of the night they had just spent together was something he would do anything to preserve. The magic didn’t need a specific place, it only needed her.

“Let’s go then.” Ginny gave him a peck. She wasn’t sure if they should be so quick to leave the inn unguarded, but she looked into his face and saw what she was certain was a mirror of her own feelings: it didn’t matter where they were. The inn was perfect—that word again—but she had been separated from him for almost a year after their kiss in her room had sealed the bond, and it had taught her that being alive and being together were the only things that mattered. Whoever was attacking the inn was attacking them both. If the inn didn’t exist, she and Harry would create another place; wherever their home was, they would both fight for it.

Harry got the trays from the kitchen, piled the pitcher and the coffee pot on top, and they went downstairs. Winky was sitting on a stool, and pointed to the sink. “Is Harry and Ginny Pott- Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley going back to her house?”

“Yes,” Harry answered as he deposited the trays. “It’s Ginny’s birthday party on Saturday. I’ll be back sometime next week, and I expect that Stan will be here this weekend.”

“Happy birthday, Ginny Weasley,” Winky smiled. “Next time Ginny is here Winky makes a chocolate birthday cake.”

“How did you know I like chocolate?” Ginny said.

“Winky knows.” She slid off the stool and looked up. “Harry Potter must not forget to remove the magic, or else Winky cannot sleep outside tonight.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Harry said. “Please, Winky, don’t do anything dangerous. That’s what the Aurors are for. If anything happens, go tell Rosmerta or Tony.”

“Yes, Winky tells them, and Winky sleeps under the tree and guards the door.” She scowled at the floor. “Aurors,” she muttered. “They is not polite.”

Harry looked helplessly at Ginny; she smiled and shook her head. “Okay,” Harry gave up, “just promise you’ll be careful.”

“Winky is always careful. That is why Winky is such a good house-elf.”

“I’ll just be a minute,” Harry said to Ginny. He hurried into the dining room and unsealed the door and the shutters, which he left closed. Back in the kitchen he took Ginny’s hand.

“‘Bye, Winky,” Ginny said. “Thanks for everything. Can you put strawberry icing on it?” Winky nodded, gave a bow, and jumped onto the sink; she stood on the edge, and as Harry closed the vestibule door behind them, he saw a cloud of soap bubbles rise from the sink and engulf the elf.

He unsealed the back door and took a last look at the inn. “I hope it’s still standing in a week.”

“I hope that’s a joke.”

“Yeah, it’s a joke.” Harry grinned. “Maybe a half-joke.” He put her arm on his elbow, gave her a kiss, and they Disapparated back to the Burrow.

Molly was in the kitchen with Charlie when Harry and Ginny entered. “There you are,” Molly said pleasantly. “Did you have a good time? You don’t have to answer that.” She didn’t see Charlie grinning behind her back. “Ron didn’t say why you decided to stay, but . . .” She sighed. “I suppose you had a good reason.” Charlie nodded vigorously, again behind her back.

“Sorry we’re late, Mum. Yes, we did have a good reason. How’s everyone?” she said, changing the subject.

“Fine. Your father is at work and everyone else is getting the house ready for your party.” She eyed their rumpled clothes and disheveled appearance. “If you give me your dirty clothes I’ll start a wash.”

Ginny grabbed Harry’s arm and headed for the stairs. “Right away, Mum,” she called over her shoulder as she hustled him up the steps. Harry glanced back once and saw Charlie watching them, grinning again.

They stopped on the landing outside Ginny’s room. “I think we’d better be on good behavior for a bit,” she said. “Go to your room and change, there’s a good lad.” She patted the top of Harry’s head.

“You won’t recognize me, I’ll be so good. Your mum does know the subtle uses of guilt, doesn’t she?”

“It’s one of her strong points, and I don’t want to experience any of the others if I can help it. So no hands.” She pushed his hand away from her hip and started into her room, but turned back and quickly kissed him, then jumped inside, closing the door firmly behind her.

Harry climbed to the attic, but as he started to open the door, he heard Ron swear, followed by scrambling noises from the far end of the room. He paused and, after counting to five, pushed the door open.

Ron and Hermione were lying side by side on Ron’s bed; Ron was reaching for a Quidditch magazine from his dresser, and Hermione was struggling to hold up a thick book in one hand and button her blouse with the other. Their faces were flushed and Hermione’s hair, barely controllable under normal circumstances, was in a state of total disorder.

“Why, Harry, how are you?” she said with excessive cordiality. “When did you get back? Is everything all right at the inn? Oops.” She lost her grip on the heavy book and it fell to the floor with a thud. She started to bend over to pick it up, but glanced up at Harry, lay back on the bed and, abandoning all pretense, finished buttoning her blouse with both hands.

Harry couldn’t help grinning. “Sorry. Mrs. Weasley wants our dirty clothes.” He stood for a moment, and Hermione jumped up.

“Oh, I’ll just—” She picked up the book. “ _Advanced Theories 0f Arithmancy_ ,” she said breathlessly, and pushed her hair out of her face. “I was just telling Ron about it, and—oh hell, Harry, can’t you knock first?”

Harry was still grinning, “Uh, it is my room, and it’s only the middle of the morning.”

“Hey,” Ron called from behind the magazine, “that never stopped some people I know.”

Hermione put her hands on her hips. “That’s right, and what difference does it make, anyway?” She gave Harry an exasperated look, and pushed past him out the door.

“Sorry, mate,” Harry said as he started to change his clothes. “Maybe we need a signal.”

“Maybe you need to knock. And don’t pull that crap about my busting in on you and Ginny last year. I already paid for that. Green lips, remember?” He put down the magazine and sat on the edge of the bed. “Did anything else happen last night?”

“No, I sealed the place up before we—I mean I sealed it up and nothing happened.” He gathered up the clothes he had been wearing since yesterday, plus a few more that were scattered on the floor. “Your mum said that everyone was getting the place ready for the party.”

“Did she? Are they?” Ron glanced out the window. “Oh, yeah, there’s Fleur. I think she’s making decorations.”

Harry came and looked past Ron out the window; he saw Fleur sitting on the grass near the garden, moving her wand slowly over a blanket covered with pieces of colored paper. Shapes and figures of various kinds formed as her wand passed over. “I wonder what’s for lunch,” Ron said, and dropped his magazine on the floor. “Let’s go see.”

They headed downstairs, and in the kitchen Molly took Harry’s clothes and disappeared into the laundry room. When Harry and Ron sat at the table, Ginny appeared from the parlor.

“Is everything okay, my lad?” she asked Harry. “Hermione said she saw you, and she says we should talk about the inn.” She closed her mouth when her mother re-entered the room. “Later?” Harry nodded.

After lunch they went down to Fred’s grave. George and Charlie had put a bench next to the oak tree facing the headstone, but they sat on the grass. Ginny picked wildflowers and replaced the sprays lying on the grave. When she joined them, Hermione started speaking.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about it, Harry, and I—”

“Wait,” Harry said, “it’s Ginny’s too. It was my birthday present to her. It’s _our_ inn.”

“Oh.” Hermione looked at Ginny. “That’s—that’s really nice. I hadn’t thought of it that way, but sure.”

Ginny and Harry smiled at each other, and as Harry reached his hand to her, Ron clapped once, loudly. “Oi, you two! Pay attention!”

“Okay,” Hermione said as everyone sat up straight and looked at her. “Both times that something happened, you were there, Harry. They could have left the Dark Mark or broken a window at any time, but they chose to wait until you were there.”

“Or we all were there,” Harry pointed out. “They broke the window while we were eating dinner.”

“Yes, well that’s my point. If they were simple vandals, they would have waited until no one was around. As it was, two of them were caught. They waited until you—we—were there. The question is, why, when it was so much riskier?”

“Because they’re dunces,” Ron said.

“The ones who threw the stone were dunces, but whoever Imperiused them is not a dunce. He or she was actually quite subtle. He knew how badly Ginny would feel about the death of a weasel, and how much Ginny’s being upset would affect Harry. And it almost worked. What would you have done to them, if Ginny hadn’t stopped you?”

“Something stupid,” Harry admitted. “I probably would have hurt them.”

“That’s what it looked like,” Hermione said. “And if Pester had shown up and found a couple of prisoners that you had injured, he wouldn’t have bothered with the broken window or the dead weasel. He might have arrested you. You would have got into trouble, Harry.”

Harry had no answer to Hermione’s logic, but he still had questions about the bigger issue. “So what’s your theory about all of it, the stone, the Dark Mark, and the two Imperiused blokes? I think someone is out to get me, not the inn. After the Dark Mark, I thought that maybe someone else had had his eye on the inn and wanted to buy it, and got mad when I bought it instead. But to go to all this trouble just because of that? It doesn’t make sense to me.”

Hermione looked troubled. “I have to admit I don’t see any motive, either. It’s almost as if someone just wants to annoy you. That could change if the attacks become more serious, but right now it’s a puzzle.”

Harry looked at Ginny. “What do you think?”

“Frankly, I don’t care what their motives are,” Ginny replied; she had her arms around her knees and had been looking down at the grass. Now she looked at Harry. “Don’t get me wrong, I love knowing it’s there, and I can’t wait to go back, but as long as no one is hurt, even if they blow it up, I’ll be sad but it wouldn’t be the end of everything.” She glanced at the headstone a few feet away. “We have to be like Fred. We have to fight them, but if we’re always afraid or if we walk around looking over our shoulders, then they win.”

She smiled and picked off a fuzzy green caterpillar inching along Harry’s leg. “You know what I haven’t done yet?” She looked at Harry. “I haven’t flown my birthday present.” She grinned at Ron and Hermione. “Who wants to play some two-a-side Quidditch?”

Only Hermione didn’t look happy with this suggestion, but Ron pulled her up and dragged her to the old shed where the family’s Cleansweeps were stored. Ginny ran up to her room to fetch her Firebolt, and they were soon soaring over the clearing with Ginny literally flying circles around the others. They switched off to give everyone a go on the Firebolt, and even Hermione grinned when she pushed off and felt the acceleration. She and Harry lost the match badly to Ron and Ginny, and Ginny couldn’t help making a few jokes about it.

“So,” she asked Harry as they trudged back to the house, “is it the wizard or is it the broomstick? What makes someone the best Quidditch player at Hogwarts? Or is it that his Quidditch-loving girlfriend made him powerful?”

“Let’s see you captain a Cup winner before you start bragging,” Harry laughed. “You weren’t my girlfriend until _after_ the Ravenclaw match.”

“Ah, but I should have been.”

“I won’t argue with that.”

“And a wise decision that is,” came from Ron, walking behind them with Hermione.

But Ginny noticed, through all the banter, that something was bothering Harry. She had an idea what it was, but as they approached the Burrow and before she could pull him aside to ask, her mother opened the door.

“Less than two days to the party,” she said, standing aside to let them in. “It’s good of you all to come back and give the rest of us a hand.”

They spent the rest of the day helping with party preparations. Ginny had invited several dozen guests, so there was plenty to do: food, house cleaning, getting the marquee ready, and sending owls out with various kinds of orders—it was the first time Bailey got to deliver a message for Ginny, and she took to it enthusiastically. Dinnertime came and went, and Ginny finally had a chance to ask Harry what had been troubling him.

Dusk was starting to settle and they lay in the small circle in the middle of the field down the lane; fireflies blinked around them and bats flitted overhead. Ginny’s head rested on Harry’s stomach and she heard an occasional gurgle as her mother’s eggplant lasagna was digested.

“You miss Hedwig, don’t you?”

Harry stroked her hair with one hand while Ginny held his other firmly in place on her collarbone; his fingers had been tracing her lips, but had started to stray southward. “Why do you ask?” he said. She didn’t answer, and finally he grunted. “How did you know?”

“You were a little bit sad after we played Quidditch, but I didn’t think it was because of the broomstick you lost. I know that Sirius gave it to you, but I think it was more than that.”

“You’re right. Thinking of the broom made me think of Hedwig. I lost them both at the same time. But it wasn’t just your Firebolt that made me think of her. It’s Bailey. She looks at you the same way Hedwig used to look at me.” His voice broke and Ginny lifted his hand and kissed it.

“Do you think you’d ever want to get another owl?” she asked softly.

“It certainly would have been helpful last night at the inn.”

She turned her head and smiled up at him. “If you do, get a barn owl, a male.”

“Why on earth would we want to have boy and girl barn owls?” Harry chuckled as Ginny punched his leg. “So tell me, have I been a good lad today? You said it would only have to be for a bit. Is it a bit yet?”

Ginny kissed his hand again and put it on her breast and let go. “Look,” she pointed up at the sky, “the stars are coming out. Don’t you love it when the stars first start to . . .mmm.” She could no longer speak because Harry had stopped being a good lad.

# # # #

Saturday, the day of the big bash, finally came. The weather was not perfect—it was mostly overcast—but George and Charlie told Ginny that if it started to rain, one of them would distract their father while the other cast a weather charm to keep the Burrow dry. The marquee that Bill, Hermione, and Arthur had prepared was standing behind the garden. It was very large, covering about a quarter of the area of a Quidditch pitch; the sides were rolled up for now. The roof was painted in stripes of vivid colors: red, yellow, blue, green, orange, and silver. A bandstand stood at one end and extended outside onto the lawn so that the band could play to both the inside and the outside. Magic lanterns, streamers, balloons, and thousands of Ginny’s favorite red paper cutouts hung from trees and poles all around the grounds. Tables were set up to hold the food and drinks.

The band arrived around ten o’clock to set up and run sound checks. Five Hufflepuffs had started it a few months ago, including Neville Longbottom’s girlfriend, Keesha Baker, who sang and also played drums; they called themselves The Huffle Badgers. Ginny stayed nearby as they worked so she could chat with Keesha; all of her close friends except Luna had left Hogwarts, and she hoped that she and Keesha could hit it off. They talked during breaks, and discovered that they had much in common. Keesha had five brothers—although she was not the youngest—and she loved Quidditch, although she had learned, much to her disappointment, that she just wasn’t that good a flyer. Ginny also liked the idea that she, Luna, and Keesha were each from a different House.

Guests started arriving in the late afternoon. Neville, Dean, Seamus, Lavender, and the Patil twins arrived together; Lavender’s battle wounds had healed, but she had a scar on her forehead that she and Harry joked about all night. Luna and her father drifted in. Dennis Creevey showed up without anyone noticing him for several minutes, until Percy bent over with his hands on his knees and asked if he was lost and needed to find his parents. After Bill had reversed the ensuing Conjunctivitis curse and repaired Percy’s eyeglasses, Ginny came over and lifted Dennis in a Molly-like hug that left the tiny boy breathless for ten minutes.

Dennis wanted to see Fred’s grave—he had not been at the funeral—and all the students who had arrived joined Ginny, Harry, Ron, and Hermione at the oak tree. Dennis put a single rose on the grave, and took photos with Colin’s camera of everyone standing around it.

Soon members of the Order of the Phoenix began arriving. The Floo Network Authority had set up a special interchange for the party, and for a while George and Percy had to stand on either side of the fireplace and hustle the arrivals out of the way to keep the passage from becoming clogged. Kingsley Shacklebolt and Saliyah Ushujaa were both magnificent in their colorful robes; Kingsley wore the largest gold earring anyone had ever seen.

Molly and Bill intercepted Mundungus Fletcher as he emerged from the fireplace and frightened him so much with threats of retribution if so much as a napkin was missing after the party, that he spent the next hour cowering in the garden with the gnomes. Ginny saw him and took pity; she brought him some birthday cake, which by then had been cut. Dung swore on the head of the gnome sitting next to him that he would not touch anything, and Ginny’s gesture so moved him that he started following her around like a puppy.

As it grew dark, it also began to drizzle. True to their word, Charlie lured his father into the house with a false report of a drunken Muggle wandering into the front yard, while George coordinated the casting of a weather charm with an extremely loud crescendo from the band to cover up the noise. The charm worked and the drizzle stopped, but the magically amplified chord broke most of the windows on the side of the house facing the marquee. Arthur and Charlie came running outside to see why shards of glass had just rained on them, and Charlie and George had to spend a good deal of time repairing the damage.

The band was loud and excellent, and everyone danced under the marquee and out on the lawn. The butterbeer flowed, the tables were laden with food, and the cake was massive, almost four feet high, with alternating layers of chocolate and vanilla, covered with dark chocolate icing. There were gallons of ice cream with buckets of strawberries and whipped cream. Ginny had told everyone not to bring presents because there would have been too many, but a few people did anyway, and Harry snuck them up to her room while Molly wasn’t looking.

During a band break, Harry and Ginny rounded up Ron and Hermione and went over to a table in a relatively quiet corner of the marquee where Kingsley, Saliyah, and Professor McGonagall were sitting. They all greeted Ginny with birthday wishes, and Harry asked if they could speak about something more serious for a moment.

“Do you mean the incidents in Hogsmeade?” Saliyah asked. “Auror Pester hasn’t given me his report yet.” She frowned slightly. “The Imperio that was worked on the two men you Stunned is proving difficult to break, and we think it was cast in conjunction with an Obliviate, so even if we can lift the one, the other may keep us from learning much.”

“Then whoever put them up to it is very talented,” said Hermione.

Saliyah nodded. “But if someone is going to that much trouble for such a petty thing as throwing a rock through a window—”

“I don’t think it’s petty at all,” Ginny said warmly. “You weren’t there. And they killed a weasel.” She looked around; she had spoken louder than she had intended, and hoped her parents hadn’t heard. She knew how upset it would make her mum, and she didn’t want an argument about her spending time at the inn.

“We can’t say anything about motives until we know who is behind it,” Saliyah said calmly, “but in itself, all they did was commit the minor crime of petty vandalism. If there is anything more sinister going on, we’ll just have to wait and see.”

“But,” Harry said, “who would go to the trouble of doing pretty complicated magic on those two vagrants just to commit petty vandalism?”

Saliyah smiled. “In my business, Harry, you see all kinds of strange behavior. For example, earlier in the afternoon of that same day, there was some strange behavior in The Three Broomsticks, apparently directed at you. Do you think there could be a connection?”

Harry scowled. “She’s just a tramp. I hired a house-elf instead of her and she got angry. She’s ill, if you ask me.”

“From my point of view she’s interesting. Why would a simple village girl start exhibiting herself in public when she has no previous history of deviant behavior?”

Professor McGonagall had been listening with interest, and now she spoke. “I have to say, Saliyah, that, bizarre as Miss Southeby’s actions were, I’ve seen it happen before. Simple, sweet, uneducated witches are sometimes drawn to Hogsmeade because of the presence of so many young and talented wizards at the school. This one has taken her attempts to attract Harry’s attention to an extreme, but if you come to the village on a Hogsmeade weekend, you would be astonished at the parade along the High Street.”

“I’ve heard about that, Minerva,” Kingsley said. He laughed and his earring shook and glittered in the light from the magic lanterns hanging in the marquee. “But I never saw it when I was there. Born too soon, I suppose.”

The Headmistress smiled. “You should be glad of that, Minister. Every fall we have to deal with the products of the previous year’s liaisons. It would serve a social purpose if the Ministry would soften its opposition to the public teaching of certain medical charms to unmarried and sometimes under-age witches.”

“I agree with you completely, but rural Scottish wizarding society is a little, shall we say, conservative, especially about sex. Keep pushing your agenda, though, Headmistress. You won’t get any resistance from me.”

Harry cleared his throat. “This is all extremely interesting, and I mean that,” he grinned. “But I’d like to know who is vandalizing my inn.”

“We will find out, Harry,” Saliyah said with arched eyebrows, “but I can’t say when. When Auror Pester has finished with the two men you captured, we will know.”

“How will you do that?” Ginny asked. “We heard that you’re not using Veritaserum any more.”

The Head Auror’s brow creased, and she hesitated slightly. “Well . . . there are other ways to get at the truth.” She glanced at Kingsley.

“I’ve temporarily banned it from the Ministry,” he said. “There are those who disagree with me,” he nodded to Saliyah, “but my feeling is that if the case against someone is not strong enough to stand on its own, a suspect should not be forced to speak against his will because of our inability to prove him guilty.”

“But that’s not—” the Head Auror snapped her mouth shut and looked peevishly away from the Minister. She smiled tightly at Harry. “You see we have our differences.”

“And in our kinder and more civil government we can speak about our differences without fearing an Unforgivable Curse.” Kingsley smiled broadly, put his hand on Saliyah’s, and she shrugged.

The band played a loud flourish and everyone looked towards the bandstand. The last set of the night was about to roll, and Ginny jumped up. “Come on, Harry, let’s party! It’s my birthday, remember? Thanks, Saliyah.” She nodded to the Minister and the Headmistress and pulled Harry out of his seat. He waved goodbye and followed Ginny to the dance floor, along with Ron and Hermione.

The band rocked on into the night. By midnight all the older people had departed except Mundungus, who sat next to the stage right under the drum set, tapping his toes and nodding his head to Keesha’s beat. A half hour later the final chord blasted a few more windows out of the Burrow, and a loud and long cheer rang from the tired and happy crowd. Ginny jumped up on the stage and, after hugging all the band members, raised her arms and everyone grew quiet; the silence sounded strange in their ringing ears.

“First of all,” she said, and everyone cheered. “Wait! I haven’t said anything yet,” she laughed.

“It doesn’t matter,” Luna called; she hadn’t gotten down yet from her perch on Dean Thomas’s shoulders, where she had ended up during the last dance. “You talk, we scream.” Everyone cheered again, and Ginny laughed again.

“Okay, but there is something serious I want to say.” Again there was quiet. “We’re all going down to my brother’s grave, and we’re going to have a remembrance for Colin Creevey and everyone else who died.”

Now there was dead silence, and all the faces looking up at her were somber. “I want everyone to think of someone who we lost, and we’re going to say all their names, and if anyone has a story about them, they can tell it. We were also going to have a reunion of Dumbledore’s Army—” a huge roar went up and didn’t stop until Ginny turned to the band, and they broke three more windows in the house. “I know that not everyone here was with us at the beginning,” Ginny continued, “but everyone was with us at the end!” She lifted her arms as she shouted out the last words, and an even louder roar threatened to lift the roof off the marquee.

She stepped down from the stage, and she, Harry, and Dennis, with Ron and Hermione, led everyone in a silent procession to the grave. George, Lee, Luna, Neville, Dean, Seamus, Parvati and Padma, Terry, Ernie, Michael, Lavender, Angelina, Katie, Hannah, Justin, Susan, Alicia, Anthony, and Cho Chang—who had come to the party because Harry, at Ginny’s request, had sent her a special invitation—all followed. Behind them came the rest: The Huffle Badgers with Keesha in the lead, Ginny’s other brothers, and the other students and friends who she had invited to the party. There were about fifty altogether, and they gathered around Fred’s grave.

George had left a large box of candles on the bench under the oak tree, and everyone took one and lit it with their wands. The light of fifty candles illuminated their faces and the headstone. Ginny kissed Dennis’s cheek and he stepped into the middle of the circle; tears streamed down his face.

“I—I want to say something about m—my brother Colin,” he said in a choked voice. “He’s d—dead. I’m not sure what that means, because whenever I look into his camera, I think I s—see him there.” He stopped and covered his eyes with his hand as his body trembled. Ginny came and hugged him. He looked at her and shook his head as he sobbed. “I c—can’t,” he said, and turned and walked through the silent crowd; he sat curled up on the bench, crying quietly.

Harry saw tears on other faces as well. He stepped forward and spoke. “When I think of Colin, I remember a funny first-year kid with a camera glued to his face, always taking pictures. He was Muggle-born, and he had his first taste of the war pretty early on. He always used to say, ‘All right, Harry,’ whenever he saw me. I guess sometimes it got on my nerves a little, but he was a funny guy, like I said, and he was always laughing. He was one of the reasons we won, because he never gave up. He might have been shorter than some of us, but he showed us all how to be tall.” He placed his candle on the grave, and when he turned back his face was wet.

After a few moments of silence, Ginny raised her candle. “I want to talk about someone I didn’t know very well until a few minutes before she died. Her name was Elizabeth Derby, and she didn’t have to stay at the castle because she was only fifteen. But she did stay, and I was with her when she died. I was holding her hand, and I’ll never forget it as long as I live, and I won’t forget her, either.” Tears streaked her face and she bowed her head, then. looked up again. “My brothers and my best friends know that I don’t cry very much, but whenever I think of her, I can’t help it.” She put her candle on Fred’s grave and stepped back; Harry put his arm around her.

Luna moved into the center and stood over the headstone. She smiled at it and looked around, appearing surprised to see everyone there.

“This is so nice,” she said cheerfully. “I think all of our dead friends would like this too, and they’re probably watching us and thinking, I wish I was there with them. I know that I would.” She paused, gazing dreamily up at the sky. “I knew Elizabeth. She was very pretty because she was a veela, and she was very beautiful because she was a nice person. I miss her. I think she would have liked this party, even though she didn’t like loud music.” She bent down, put her candle on the grave, and walked back into the crowd, smiling at everyone.

Others stepped forward and talked about friends and family who had died or been injured in the battle. George was the last, and by the time he walked forward, there were dozens of candles on Fred’s grave. He sighed and sat on the headstone, looking around at the faces lit by candlelight.

“I appreciate what everyone is doing here,” he said, “and I confess that I still have moments, lots of moments, when I can’t believe that my brother isn’t here anymore. Those times are tough to handle, and sometimes I don’t know how I can go on with my life without him. But then I think of something, and I’m going to tell you what that is. What I think is, if Fred could see all of you now, he would do two things. First he would laugh, and then he would set off a Weasleys’ Whizz-Bang inside your pants.”

“Oh, no!” said Ron loudly, and at that instant the remaining candles in the box on the bench, plus all the candles on Fred’s grave, shot into the air and burst into the most brilliant display of Wild-Fire Whizz-Bangs since Fred and George’s departure from Hogwarts two and a half years ago.

Dennis leaped up from the bench with a shriek. People still holding candles threw them into the air where they joined the conflagration to cheers and screams of delight. Ginny flung herself at George, knocking him off the headstone, and they tumbled on the grave holding each other, unable to stop laughing.


	15. Melancholy Baby

The skies lightened in the east on an overcast Sunday morning, and the denizens of the marquee began to stir. No one had gone home after the pyrotechnics. They had pulled the sides of the marquee down and slept scattered about on conjured cushions, on the grass floor, or sitting in chairs. Ginny and Harry had dozed with their backs against the bandstand, surrounded by their friends.

Ginny was one of the first to rouse and stagger outside into a damp and blustery morning that felt like it would become a rainy day. She went into the Burrow, where her mother was in the kitchen brewing large pots of coffee while Fleur and Charlie prepared trays of warm pastries. They Levitated the assembled breakfast out to the marquee, and the aromas gradually awoke everyone who was not already up; Harry took coffee and a cherry Danish from the platter that Ginny passed around.

“This was a great party,” said Luna as she picked the cheese filling out of a croissant with her finger. “It’s a good way to end the summer.” She stuffed the empty shell into her mouth and stood holding the cheese in her hand. “Does anyone want this?”

Dean scraped the cheese off her hand and deposited it onto his plate; he put it down and wiped off his hands. “So Harry, when will the Hog’s Head open?”

“When the Hogwarts Express pulls into Hogsmeade Station on September 1. We’ll be there to meet it.”

“Who?” said Luna.

“Me and Ginny. We’ll have snacks and drinks for everyone. For free.”

Luna nodded and looked around; Ginny was on the bandstand talking to Keesha, who was packing up instruments with the rest of the band. “Okay,” Luna said, “I guess I’ll see you then. ‘Bye everyone.” She waved to no one in particular and Disapparated.

“When did she learn how to do that?” Neville asked, staring at the spot Luna had just vacated.

“Two weeks ago,” said Dean. “She’s a natural. She got her license three days ago.”

Soon the rest of the young people who had stayed overnight followed Luna. The marquee was struck, the decorations taken down, and quickly the Burrow was back to normal. Bill and Fleur left early in the afternoon, and by evening Percy, George, Ron, and Hermione had also departed. Charlie would be staying for two more days to take care of some business he had at the Ministry with a dragon conservationist in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

It would have been depressingly quiet for Ginny, except that she had to begin getting ready for school. She had procrastinated with everything—cleaning, books, supplies, clothes, robes—and now she had only two weeks. Harry had to be at the inn, getting it ready for the grand opening, so they decided that Ginny would spend the next week preparing for school, and Harry would likewise concentrate on the inn. They would at least get to see each other in the evenings, and they hoped they could spend the final week of summer together.

“Maybe we can stay at the inn all week.” Harry had a suggestive smile as they lounged on the sofa in the parlor late Sunday evening; the remnants of the party had finally been cleaned up, and Ginny’s parents and Charlie had gone to bed. It had rained all day, and it was still coming down hard, so a ramble in the countryside was not in the cards.

“I’d like that,” Ginny purred with her head in his lap; Harry was tracing her freckles with his fingers. “Let’s make that our goal. Percy was telling us last night that everyone should have goals.”

“Good, that’ll be our goal, then. And we can tell Perce that he helped bring purpose and achievement into our lives.”

Ginny chuckled, but then grew serious. She took his hand and laced their fingers together.

“What is it, love?” Harry asked.

She smiled at his endearment. “Nothing. I was just thinking about us. What do you think will happen after the school year?”

“You said it exactly, Us.”

“I know, but what do you think will happen? Do you really want to run an inn, always? I’ll have to figure out what to do too. There wasn’t much career counseling last year.”

Harry began combing her hair with his fingers; he did it whenever he got the chance. “I guess I haven’t thought about it. I just knew, the day after the battle, that I wanted to be with you, whatever I did.”

“Maybe you should start thinking about it, at least a little.”

“Sure.” Harry’s fingers slid gently through her hair. “But let’s get through this week first. Our goal, remember?”

“Olay,” Ginny smiled. “I suppose we have plenty of time to think about next year.” She pulled his head down and they kissed until Harry leaned too far and they rolled, giggling, onto the floor. There was some intense snogging until Ginny enforced the house rule—no love-making inside—and they forced themselves upstairs and into their separate beds.

# # # #

The rain never let up all week, which made their chores that much more unpleasant. Ginny spent a soggy day in Diagon Alley rounding up books; a new cauldron and advanced potion-making equipment for Professor Slughorn’s N.E.W.T. class; writing supplies—she planned to send an owl to Harry in Hogsmeade every night—and a broomstick servicing kit that Harry insisted on buying for her. She had to get it all back home in a drenching downpour, and when some of the Floo powder flamed in her hand, she came crashing out of the fireplace in the kitchen and sprawled on the floor at her mother’s feet with her parcels scattered everywhere. She spent the rest of the day organizing her textbooks, mending clothes, and coaxing Bailey to go out hunting even though the owl clearly disliked the rain. But mostly she stared moodily out her bedroom window, missing Harry and counting the hours and minutes until he returned.

Harry spent his days ordering supplies, planning meals, helping Stan organize the bar, and keeping Winky out of Stan’s hair. The elf had definite territorial notions about the inn, and she often tested Stan’s good nature with forays behind the bar. She lectured him on how to organize the glasses and mugs in the overhead racks, the best temperature to keep mead at, and how to fold napkins properly so they stood up like little white tents on the table tops. Harry tried to keep her out of the dining room, but he eventually gave in to her mulish persistence and told Stan he would deal with her later.

Harry also had to buy furniture for the flat. He talked it over with Ginny on Monday evening back at the Burrow, and they decided that she would make another trip into Diagon Alley. She went back on Thursday morning and found a tiny storefront, a branch of Hippolite’s Home Furnishings across from Gringotts, next to Fortescue’s old ice cream store, that magically opened up inside into a huge furniture warehouse. The manager, a brisk young witch, was a Metamorphmagus, judging from the ever-changing shapes of her nose and ears. The constant shape-shifting finally became too annoying for Ginny, and she walked out having bought only a set of dressers. She figured that they had chairs for the kitchen, the love seat for the parlor, and the bed for the bedroom, and that was enough for the time being.

Harry came home tired every night, usually after dinner and in the rain. The weather kept them indoors, and they stayed up late until Molly and Arthur had gone to bed so they could have some privacy in the parlor. This made Harry even more tired the following day, and by Thursday Ginny was becoming worried about his Apparitions. The rain slowed to a fine drizzle in the evening, and when the usual feeling came over her that he was on his way, she went out and waited by the gate. When he finally popped into the lane, he staggered and Ginny ran to meet him.

“Are you all right?” She started counting his fingers and feeling his face; everything was intact, and she kissed him. “Is everything okay at the inn?”

There had been no more incidents, but Ginny worried, and she also had it in the back of her mind that Turquoise Southeby would show up, especially since the tart probably knew that Harry was alone there all day.

“Everything’s fine,” he said wearily. “Nothing happened, and that’s a problem. We were supposed to get a shipment of that new Potio Vitae drink, but the supplier sent an owl. They’re having problems with the quality, which doesn’t really inspire confidence, does it?”

They walked back to the house as large raindrops began splattering around them. Harry put his traveling cloak over Ginny’s head and his arm around her shoulder. “God, I missed you. I had to use this all day, just to keep myself sane, but instead it drove me crazy.”

He laughed and pulled the silver chain from inside his shirt and pressed the shiny cylinder to his lips. Ginny’s scent filled the damp air, and Harry stopped and put his arms around her. He kissed her fiercely, lifting her off the ground. They stopped kissing only when a simultaneous flash of lighting and clap of thunder made them jump. They ran through the pelting rain to the house, and Harry started to open the door but Ginny stopped him. They were soaked and getting wetter as she took his face in her hands.

“Harry,” she whispered, “come to my room tonight.”

“What?” Harry wasn’t sure if had heard her right through the rumbles of thunder and torrents of rain. “I thought you didn’t . . .”

“Just be very quiet. You’ll have to pass my parents’ room.” She kissed him again and opened the door.

Her mother was waiting with her wand, and quickly had them dry and warm. She also had a large bowl of hot vegetable soup and a loaf of fresh bread ready for Harry, and bustled him to the table. He sat with a sigh and smiled up at her.

“You’re the best, Mrs. Weasley.” She tousled his hair, which was still damp, and turned to the sink before he could see her blush.

The storm continued. Rain drummed against the windows, and sometimes the flashes of lightning were so close together that it seemed like daylight outside. Harry and Ginny stayed with her parents in the parlor in front of a crackling fire; they lay on the hearth side by side, poking at the logs with sticks of firewood.

“Harry,” Arthur said in a lull of the storm, “have you heard anything from the Ministry about the rock-throwing incident?”

Harry rolled onto his elbow. “The two chaps we caught were Obliviated, so they didn’t learn anything from them. And no one’s reported a missing person that fits their descriptions, either. And it looks like one of them is a Squib.”

Molly shook her head and clucked. “It sounds to me like a practical joke. I should think they could tell something from their clothes or their accents.” She reached up and replaced a skein of yarn for one of her enchanted knitting needles; another maroon jumper was finished.

“Nope, nothing,” Harry rolled back onto his stomach. “I wish it was just a joke, but I don’t think so.” He put his head down on his arms and yawned, and Ginny began to massage his shoulders. “I’d better go to bed,” he yawned again. “I have to get back early tomorrow. The beverage bloke will be there at eight.”

“I think it’s time for everyone to go to bed,” said Molly. She plucked her knitting project out of the air and got to her feet. “Come, dear, it’s a good night for snuggling.”

Ginny and Harry smiled to each other as her parents left the room. They knew that Arthur and Molly were giving them time alone, but now Harry wanted to get upstairs as soon as possible.

“Are you sure?” he whispered on the landing in front of Ginny’s room. She nodded. “How long should I wait?”

“Until you’re desperate,” she giggled. “But maybe you can wait until the thunder gets loud. I don’t think they’d hear a herd of dragons through that.”

Harry gave her a quick kiss—he didn’t trust himself to do more—and hurried upstairs. He put on his pajamas and lay on top of his covers, trying not to think of Ginny. He considered getting out his Invisibility Cloak, but decided he didn’t want her parents to suspect that he was sneaking around their house. If they caught him in the clear, he would just have to think of an excuse.

Finally, after an hour of agony, the storm, mirroring Harry’s emotional state, intensified, and he slipped out of the attic room and crept downstairs as quietly as he could. On the first landing, he waited until several flashes of lightning appeared within a few seconds of each other, and started toward Ginny’s room. Just as rolls of thunder began to peal, he reached her door and went inside.

He stood for a moment and when the thunder died down, he heard Bailey moving on her perch.

“Come here!” Ginny said in a loud whisper. He walked to her bed, and she lifted the covers, inviting him in. “Why are you wearing pajamas?” she whispered.

# # # #

Harry was eating breakfast the next morning with Arthur and Molly when Ginny came sleepily downstairs in her dressing gown and with totally disheveled hair; she was running her fingers through it, trying without much success to untangle the knots. Arthur was reading the _Prophet_ and briefly looked up and greeted her, but Molly surveyed her with slightly raised eyebrows.

Ginny dropped into the chair next to Harry, who was trying not to look at her, certain that if he did his expression would give away everything. It didn’t help when she put her hand on his leg under the table, but he managed not to choke on the slice of toast in his mouth.

Ginny yawned. “Is it still raining?” she asked, staring groggily straight ahead at the wall.

“Look out the window, dear,” her mother tisked. “It never stopped.”

Ginny glanced outside and patted Harry’s hand. “I’m sorry. This weather is awful. You’ll be careful, won’t you?”

“Sure, and if I can take care of the beverage delivery and a couple of other things, I’ll be back early.”

“Good. Do you have it?” She put her hand on his chest and felt the Bouquedelle under his shirt. Harry smiled and held her hand against it until he became aware of her mother staring at them. He got up, put his dishes in the sink, and took his traveling cloak from its hook by the door. He said goodbye to the parents, and Ginny followed him into the parlor; he had decided to Disapparate there because of the weather. He kissed her goodbye, a little more hotly than his usual morning farewell, and vanished.

Ginny dragged herself back to the kitchen but didn’t sit. “I think I’ll skip breakfast right now, Mum,” she yawned again. “I didn’t sleep very well. All that thunder kept waking me up.”

Molly watched her go upstairs, waited until she heard the door close, and began clearing the table. “Did you see them?” she asked Arthur.

He put the paper down. “Yes, they both seemed a little tired. The storm, I suppose.”

Molly snorted. “There was a storm all right.” She clattered the dishes in the sink, but stopped and said, without looking at him, “What do you think about Ginny’s staying at the inn next week?”

“What? When did that happen?”

“Don’t you listen? She told us two days ago she might do it. It bothers me. They’re moving along too quickly.”

Arthur sighed; he did not want to start this conversation five minutes before he had to leave for work. “Can we talk about it later? But,” he added hastily, seeing her scowl, “it won’t be the end of the world if I’m fifteen minutes late. And speaking of which, it won’t be the end of the world if Ginny lives with him for a few days, either.”

“I’m not talking about death and destruction,” Molly said irritably. “I’m talking about what’s sensible and what’s not.” Her face softened. “I have no doubt about their love for each other, it’s just that they’re moving along so fast. Were you aware that Harry spent a good part of last night in her room?”

Arthur passed his hand over his eyes and shook his head. “No, and I’m not sure I want to know.”

“Are you saying you want to hide your head in the sand?”

“Of course not. It wasn’t the smartest thing for them to do, but on the other hand . . . You might not like my saying this, Molly, but to be totally honest about it, they couldn’t get outside by themselves all week, and we both know what they do out there. A couple of weeks ago you said you didn’t know what the right thing to do was. Well, you were right then, and you would still be right if you said the same thing now.”

Molly sat down and dabbed at her eyes. “She’ll be gone in less than two weeks. I suppose for her it’s not happening fast enough.”

Arthur got up and put his arms around her. “I’ll say to you what you said to me. Just consider who she chose, and look at what he’s doing for her. Could we ask for more?”

She shook her head wordlessly, and her eyes teared. “Go to work, you’ll be late.”

Ginny went back to bed and burrowed under the covers. Harry’s scent was still on the pillow and she buried her face in it. She felt a little guilty about violating her “house rule,” but only a little. When he came home last night she had seen discouragement and weariness in his eyes. He was working so hard just to please her, and she couldn’t stand to see him like that.

But the night in her bed had quite changed his mood, because when she finally pushed him out her door just before dawn, he was joking about cutting his four-poster in half down the middle so that they could be as close together there as they were in her narrow bed. She had stood on the landing outside her room, gazing up the stairs for minutes after he had gone into his room, and had barely closed her door in time to avoid being seen by her mum, who was just coming out of her own room.

As Ginny now lay in bed hugging her pillow, she thought about the coming year and wondered how she was going to get her schoolwork done, with Quidditch practices on top of that. She knew that Harry would not be helpful; he would want her to be at the inn as often as possible. Somehow, they would have to work it out; she didn’t know how, but it was, after all, a nice problem to have.

She drifted off to sleep under snug covers while the rain beat on her window.

At that moment Harry was sitting at a table in the dining room of the Hog’s Head Inn, scowling at a parchment he had just taken from a wet and disgruntled owl that had arrived a short time ago. The message was from Jake Sipper, the owner of Sipper’s Beverage and Tea Emporium, informing Harry, regretfully, that the shipment of butterbeer, mead, tea, coffee, and the new drink that was all the rage in the wizarding world, Potio Vitae, had been delayed again because of the weather and continuing “quality” problems. He apologized, and assured Harry that it wasn’t his fault but that he was working as hard as he could to resolve the problem.

Harry slammed the parchment on the table and stood. Stan looked up from behind the bar where he was cleaning the inlaid mirror and its ornate gilt frame. “No shipment this morning, ‘Arry?”

Harry shrugged. “Who knows? He doesn’t say when it’ll come. I’ll have to wait all day until either it comes or he tells me it won’t be coming. And if he wants to deliver it on the weekend, I’ll have to stay here the whole damn time.” He swore again. “Why can’t it be easy, or at least not so bloody aggravating? He’s been promising this shipment for three days now.” He sat back down as abruptly as he had stood.

“I told you before, ‘Arry, I can sign for it if you want.” Stan put down his polishing cloth. “I don’t mind. ‘Arriet can take some time and wait with me.”

Harry looked out a window at the steady rain. It was cooler and damper here in the north, a thoroughly dismal day. He could leave the inn in Stan’s capable hands and return to Ginny—his hand strayed to the Bouquedelle under his shirt—but he knew that would be wrong. He had been admonished by Rosmerta and lectured by George about taking responsibility if he wanted to own a business: that was the only way to make it succeed, they both had assured him.

Besides, he felt guilty about dumping it all on Stan. Harry had begun to realize that Stan was so grateful to him for giving him a job while he still bore, in some people’s minds, the stigma of being a Death Eater, that he would do almost anything for Harry. Harry didn’t want that, did not like that kind of devotion, had never asked for it. He liked Stan a lot, and was grateful himself for a barkeep so competent and so easy to work with.

“No, thanks, Stan,” he sighed. “I really appreciate it, but Sipper’s expecting me to be here. It’s all right. I’ll just have to wait.” He stood again and walked to the front door, opened it and saw teeming rain. Above his head hung the empty brackets from which had hung the sign of the beheaded boar, and he realized that he needed to make another decision.

He turned back to Stan. “Okay, it’s time to pick a name. I’ve put it off too long. What shall we call this place? Do we keep the old name? Do we name it Harry’s Hangout, or Heaven Inn Hogsmeade, or the Eight Broomsticks, or what? What do you think?” He closed the door and went to the bar and sat on a stool.

Stan began polishing the counter, which he did constantly, no matter that he hadn’t served a single customer yet. “What about Ginny? ‘As she told you what she likes?”

“She doesn’t like Gin’s Joint, which was her brother’s brilliant idea, but she does like Harry’s Cozy Little Inn, which isn’t on my short list. So she told me to pick a name, and if she doesn’t like it, she’ll decide for me.”

Stan chuckled. “I’ve told you, keep the old name. Everyone knows it, that’s what it’s been called since forever. If you change it, I bet people will still call it the ‘ogs ‘ead, or the _old_ ‘ogs ‘ead. You won’t get anyone to call it anything else, I’ll bet a week’s pay on it.”

Harry laughed, glad to be cheered by Stan’s good humor. “But we also want people to know that it’s new, that it’s cheerful. I want people to come here and have a good time.”

“If the food is good and the drinks are big, word will get around. Then you’ll ‘ave the best of both. Everyone will know the name, and everyone will know it’s not a dump anymore.”

Harry pondered for a few moments. “Well, that’s possible. It would be the easiest thing to do. What about the sign? I refuse to put up anything remotely like the old one.”

“‘Arriet’s a good artist, did you know? She’s done lots of things for Ros, like signs, pictures for the walls, stuff like that. I can ask ‘er it she has any ideas.”

“Okay, I like that too. Why don’t you ask her to paint a sign for us, but something a little less gruesome than a decapitated pig.”

Stan grinned. “She’ll like that too, ‘Arry. Thanks.”

Harry was starting to feel better. “So we accomplished at least one thing today. Now we just need the beverage man to show up.” He stretched and yawned. “Do you mind watching the place for a bit? I need a nap.” Stan waved him off, and Harry left; he didn’t see Winky in the kitchen, but he heard her snores echoing from inside a cabinet near the fireplace.

Upstairs, he took off his shoes and lay on the bed, thinking about Ginny and last night. They had lain close together all night, and there were times that he had thought it would drive him crazy, just having their flesh being in constant contact. There were a few moments when, as he looked into her eyes, he almost thought he was seeing out of them, seeing himself looking back at her. It was strange, almost scary, and in a way a little funny because everything was in perfect focus, not slightly blurred as it always was without his eyeglasses on.

He missed her, even after only a few hours; he felt alone. He thought back to the times in the past year when he had really been alone, sitting watch in the tent entrance on some forlorn moor, listening to Hermione and Ron talking inside, looking up at the stars, trying to ignore the kernel of fear that was a constant presence in the pit of his stomach. Whenever he had thought of Ginny at those times, he had not felt the flaming desire that he did now. It was more like a longing for something that seemed impossible, something that would never happen. It had always brought a melancholy sorrow to his spirit, along with an additional fear: that the happiness he had experienced in their few weeks together would never be more than a memory.

But then he would remember the words she had spoken on his birthday, the day before the fall of the Ministry: “There’s the silver lining I was hoping for . . .” Recalling those words was always a tonic, a tiny jolt of hope that, if he could survive and somehow win, she would be there. The words meant that Ginny was true to him, she was thinking about him as he was thinking about her. He would look up at the stars again and see the beauty of the universe and know that he _would_ see her again.

He pressed the Bouquedelle to his lips and fell asleep enveloped in Ginny.

He awoke to loud knocking on the parlor door. “‘Arry?” he heard Stan call. “‘e’s ‘ere, that Sipper bloke with the drinks. ‘Arry?”

Harry jumped up. “Come in, Stan,” he called, pulling on his trainers. The door opened and Stan poked his head in.

“They’re downstairs. I’ll tell them you’ll be right down.”

Harry hurried after him and found Stan, Winky, Sebastian Sipper, and one of his workers in the dining room, surrounded by kegs, cartons, and cases of bottles.

“Sorry for the delay, Harry,” Sipper said, mopping water from his hair with a bright orange towel. He was a squat, burly wizard with a head of hair that was almost as red as Ron’s, and a large red handlebar mustache that was also dripping rainwater. Harry looked at the puddle on the floor, but Sipper continued. “I don’t understand why they held up the order.” He waved at the stack of cases with the Potio Vitae label. “They said they had a bad batch, but I think they miscalculated how popular it is, and just ran out. I opened a bottle to check it, and it’s fine. Great stuff, I have to say.”

“Well, at least it’s finally here.” Harry tried to stop Winky from mopping the puddle of water, but she shrugged off his hand and glared at Sipper as she mopped it up with a bar towel.

Harry walked around the pile of cartons. “And it’s all here, the whole order?”

“Yep. Do you want a hand putting it away?”

“No, we can handle it. Where’s the receipt?”

Sipper produced a long parchment, handed it to Harry, and pulled a quill out of his pocket. “Just sign right here, Harry. Got another overdue delivery down in Edinburgh, and the weather’s getting worse.”

Harry signed, and Sipper and his man left. Harry heard them Disapparate, and he turned to Stan. “Let’s take care of this and then I think I can be off.” He and Stan began separating the delivery and Levitating the items into the storeroom behind the bar. After a moment, Stan frowned and began counting.

“‘old on a minute, ‘Arry,” he finally said. “Let me see the invoice.”

“Now what?” Harry handed it to him with a scowl. Stan ran his finger down the parchment.

“They shorted us eight cases of butterbeer. We only got sixteen.”

“God damn it!” Harry shouted, and the carton of tea suspended in the air in front of him shot forward and slammed into the wall; it fell to the floor, split open, and tins of tea spilled out. “Who the hell does he think he is? I’ll—”

“Wait!” Stan said. ‘’ere, at the bottom, it says ‘e owes us eight. It’s all right, ‘Arry, we’ll be fine with the ones ‘e delivered.”

Harry grabbed the invoice and peered at it. He put his hand to his temple. “I have a headache,” he groaned. “I can’t take much more of this. Why does this have to happen? Why doesn’t he tell us the truth? Why can’t he just deliver the damned things? When I fought Riddle, all I had to do was shoot a spell and it was over. This is way harder, and a lot less satisfying.”

“Harry Potter is a wizard,” said Winky from behind the table where she had ducked when Harry propelled the carton of tea into the wall. “Harry Potter is not learning how to run an inn at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. When Winky has been at the House of Crouch, she has been seeing these things happen all the time. Mrs. Crouch has always laughed when it happens. Harry Potter should laugh too.” She paused for a moment. “And Harry Potter should not waste tea that he is already paying for.”

Harry dropped his hand—his wand had been raised—and gave Winky a wry look. “Who needs a mum when he has a house-elf?”

“Good advice,” Stan laughed. “Now look, ‘Arry, why don’t you just go on ‘ome, ‘ave a nice long weekend with Ginny, and next week the weather will be good and everything will be great.”

‘Stan Shunpike is being right for once,” Winky said, and Stan looked at Harry with a grin. “And Harry Potter must remind Ginny Pott— Ginny Weasley about her chocolate birthday cake.”

“I’ll do that,” Harry laughed. “We may both be back here next week,” he said to Stan. “That, uh, that won’t bother you, will it?”

“No, no. Why should it? That’ll be brilliant. She’s a swell girl, and ‘Arriet likes ‘er, too.”

“Then let’s get the rest of this put away. I’ll send an owl to Sipper to tell us exactly when he’s planning to finish the order, and then . . . that’ll be it.”

Harry repaired the smashed carton, put the tea tins back inside with a Pack spell, and they quickly stored the last of the order. He hurried to the post office and sent an owl to Sipper, feeling buoyant despite the continuing downpour, knowing he would soon be with Ginny. He said goodbye to Stan and Winky, and Disapparated back to the Burrow.

He Apparated in the parlor, startling Molly, who shrieked and jumped off the sofa where she had been helping her knitting needles untangle two skeins of yarn. “Harry! My goodness! I didn’t expect you—”

The door burst open and Ginny flew in. “I knew you would be home early! Is everything okay? You didn’t get wet, did you?”

“Everything is fine, and it’s impossible not to get wet. It’s raining just as hard up there. The order came late, and then Stan told me to go home, so here I am.”

“Did you eat lunch yet?” Ginny and Molly both said at exactly the same time.

“No,” Harry grinned. Ginny waved her mother to sit back down and led Harry out the door. The instant she closed it they embraced in a long, tight snog.

“What do you want for lunch?” Ginny said when she finally had to take a breath.

Harry straightened his eyeglasses and brushed the hair back from her face. “The usual. Do you think you can cook it up for me?”

“Anything you want is yours,” she giggled. “Later. Now eat. Since I knew you’d be home early, I waited.”

They ate the soufflé that Ginny had learned to make from Fleur, and talked. Harry asked Ginny again if she could spend the last week of the summer with him at the inn, and Ginny told him she had already started to pack. The only problem was that she still had things to do to get ready for school, so Harry offered to help, and when everything was done, they would go on up to Hogsmeade together.

They even made plans for what they would do during the week. Ginny wanted to help get the inn ready for its opening on September 1. She also wanted more shopping trips to London to finish furnishing the flat, and to begin the Apparition lessons that Percy had given her for her birthday. The African dance concert that Saliyah had told them about was also scheduled for that week.

They set to work with a will, spending the afternoon cleaning Ginny’s room, packing her trunk, and sorting her clothes and robes. Molly looked in on them once, sitting on the floor, trying to figure out the best way to pack her potion-making supplies so that the delicate scales would not be damaged. Molly smiled and closed the door.

“I think she’ll be okay with it,” Ginny said as they both looked at the closed door. “I hope Dad is too.”

Harry stood up. “I think we’re finished.”

Ginny examined the cauldron one last time and grinned at him. “We did it. We met our goal. Percy will be so proud.” She went to her desk and took out a box of letter parchment, ink, and a quill. “I’ll just send an owl off to Mr. Twycross and then we can pack this.”

Bailey hopped from leg to leg on her perch, hooting eagerly. Ginny wrote out the note and tied it to Bailey’s leg. She opened the window, and the owl hesitated just for a moment when she saw the steady rain, but hooted again, sprang up, and disappeared into the gloom.

They packed up the rest of the desk into her trunk, and Ginny closed the lid and sat on it. “Come here,” she beckoned to Harry.

“Can’t we sit on something softer?” He looked hopefully at the bed. “This will be very uncomfortable to sit on.”

“There’s a rule, remember? Just because I let you break it once, doesn’t mean you can break it whenever you want. Now sit here.” She patted the trunk.

“ _I_ broke the rule? If I remember correctly, you were there too.” He sat on the trunk, put his finger on his cheek, and screwed up his face. “Yes, I definitely remember that you were in the bed with me, I’m one hundred percent positive.”

“There’s nothing wrong with your memory, I see, even if your poor bum can’t take a little hardship. But if we sit on the bed, we’ll never get off. I’m one hundred percent positive.”

Harry nodded solemnly. “That’s true, and dinner is so close. We have to keep up our strength.”

They both laughed, and Ginny moved closer. “So we’ll leave tomorrow and stay until next Saturday, then we’ll come back for a few days, or at least I will. You can stay at the inn if you have to, and you can meet me when the Express gets in on Tuesday evening.”

Harry looked puzzled. “When the Express gets in? What do you mean?”

Ginny looked just as puzzled. “What do you mean, ‘what do I mean’? The Hogwarts Express. It’ll get into Hogsmeade around nine o’clock, like it always does.”

Now Harry looked disturbed. “The Hogwarts Express? Why will you . . . but . . . I thought you would be here—I mean at the inn, with me.”

Ginny frowned. “What are you talking about? I’m taking the train from King’s Cross Station on September the first, like I always have.”

But I thought . . . I assumed . . . Oh.” Disappointment replaced bewilderment on Harry’s face. “I guess I assumed you would just stay at the inn and go to school with the other kids when the train got in.”

“Why would you assume that? I never said I wanted to do that. I want to take the train with Keesha and Luna. I talked to them about it at the party.”

“Okay, okay! It’s fine, I understand.”

They sat on the trunk and didn’t speak or look at each other. Ginny turned to the window, away from Harry, and he looked down at his hands.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said. “Can I come to see you off?” She turned back and he took her hand. “I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“I should have said something.” Ginny looked at their hands. “Yes, please, I want you to come to the station.” She chuckled. “That way you can see me off and meet me when I arrive.”

“I guess that’s kind of stupid, but I want to see you off, anyway.”

The sat in silence until Ginny rubbed her shoulder against him. “Let’s see how dinner’s coming along. And we’ll have to tell them we’ll be gone all week.”

“Oh, yeah.” Harry stood with her. He wasn’t sure what had just happened, but he was glad that they had resolved it so quickly. He also felt like picking Ginny up and taking her to the bed, but she had moved to the door. She paused before opening it and looked winsomely back at him.

“I feel the same way, but let’s wait till tomorrow. It will just be the two of us for a whole week.” She smiled in a way that made Harry’s knees weak, but she opened the door before he could reach her and skipped out. As she ran laughing downstairs, Harry took a breath and followed.

Molly greeted them with a smile when they entered the kitchen, and nodded when Ginny told her about their plans. “You’ll be back in time for the King’s Cross taxi, won’t you, dear?” she said almost disinterestedly.

Ginny looked at her uncertainly. “Um, of course. And Harry will come see me off.”

“Good. Well, did you finish packing, and cleaning your room, and—”

“Everything’s done, Mum. All I’ll have to do is pick up my trunk. I’ll come back on Saturday, anyway, so I’ll have a couple of days to take care of anything that comes up.”

Molly nodded again. But as Ginny and Harry looked at each other, somewhat surprised at her mild reaction, Molly spoke again. “There’s nothing wrong with what you two are doing, but it’s not a trivial thing, either. Not many people do it when they’re your age, wizards or Muggles.” She smiled at them. “There, I’ve finished my lecture. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Ginny just stared at her and Harry looked at the floor. Molly laughed, and kissed them both, which embarrassed Harry even more. “Go on, both of you. Dinner will be ready when Arthur gets home.”

They waited in the parlor, sitting side by side on the sofa. Harry didn’t know what to say, and Ginny smiled at his confusion.

“They’ve always been like that. And I told you that they did the same thing when they were our age. They must have really been in love, don’t you think?”

Harry finally smiled. “That’s a trick question, isn’t it? Of course they were in love, just like us.”

“Ooh, now that’s an interesting answer. So who was more in love, them or us?”

“No one could be more in love than I am.”

Ginny moved into his lap and put her arms around him. “Harry, why do you always say the right thing? How am I supposed to wait until tomorrow to jump you again?”

“Lady, that’s a tough problem you have, but I’m not going to help you solve it.”

At that moment they heard Arthur Apparate next to the front door, and a moment later voices in the kitchen. “Thank Merlin!” Ginny laughed. “It’s time to eat.”

The next morning they Side-Along Apparated into the dining room of the inn, carrying duffle bags and wearing backpacks with the clothes and belongings they would need for the week. Stan was not there yet, and Winky was puttering in the kitchen and ignored them as they came through from the dining room.

“She’s making my cake,” Ginny giggled as they climbed the stairs. They stepped into the sitting room, dropped their luggage, and threw themselves at each other. Harry picked Ginny up and carried her into the bedroom. Somehow, Winky knew not to disturb them, so they were two hungry people who came downstairs for dinner in the early evening. They ate a candlelight dinner, and for dessert Winky proudly served chocolate cake with strawberry icing.

# # # #

The week was a blur of delight and happiness. Everything seemed to go well; even the weather turned sunny and warm. On Tuesday they Apparated into Diagon Alley and finished buying furniture for the flat; they got a large mirror and an easy chair for the bedroom, two small tables and some comfortable chairs for the parlor, and several more pieces of artwork to hang on the walls. Ginny took her first Apparition lesson from Wilkie Twycross at the Ministry while Harry visited with Ron, and in the evening they attended the African dance concert that Saliyah Ushujaa had invited them to at Tonks and Remus’s funeral.

It was held in the Atrium of the Ministry, and was intended as both a memorial to those killed in the war, and as a re-dedication of the Atrium and the Fountain of Magical Brethren. The grotesque, sinister black statue was gone. In its place were the simple figures of four children, two boys and two girls, standing on a pedestal. It was not even clear if they were magical; they were just holding hands and smiling at each other.

“That’s beautiful. Does anyone know if they used real models?” Ginny said as she and Harry stood looking at it with Ron and Hermione; they were all wearing dress robes, including Ron who made sure that everyone knew he had bought new ones to replace the embarrassment he had worn years ago to the Yule Ball.

“The two girls are twins, and they’re actually starting at Hogwarts this year,” said Hermione. “Their parents are Muggles, friends of my folks. I’ve known them since they were born, when I was about seven.”

“What are their names?” asked Harry.

“Emma and Claire Athair. You should try to find them on the Hogwarts Express,” she said to Ginny. “They’re adorable.”

They wandered around the Atrium until the concert began. A stage had been erected in front of the lift to the public entrance, and the Atrium was filled to overflowing with wizards and witches dressed to the hilt. The drums were electrifying, driving and pounding into the audience and the dancers. The costumes were sensuous, elegant, or stately, depending on the theme of the dance. The dances were, as Saliyah had described, emotional and riveting.  By the time the concert ended, everyone in the audience felt as exhausted as the dancers.

Afterwards, Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione took a cab back to the Leaky Cauldron—Ron wanted to show off how well he got around Muggle London—and after a few drinks they went up to the flat over Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. They talked long into the night about the summer that had just ended and the upcoming year. Harry and Ginny Apparated back to the inn when the eastern sky was beginning to lighten, and fell into bed and into each other’s arms.

When they got up the next afternoon, they found that their new furnishings had arrived and were sitting in the parlor. They spent the rest of the day moving furniture and hanging pictures; that is, Ginny decided where to put everything and Harry moved or hung it. By evening the flat had a homey, comfortable feel that delighted them both. After dinner they lit a fire and luxuriated on the rug in front the fireplace, and ended up falling asleep there once again in each other’s arms.

Everything went smoothly at the inn. With Ginny’s help Harry was able to keep Winky out of the dining room, and Stan finished his preparations in peace. Harry was becoming nervous about the grand opening and actually having to serve customers, but all the supplies were delivered on time and both Stan and Winky had their respective domains well under control.

And, much to everyone’s relief, there were no more incidents of vandalism. The only occurrence that bothered Ginny was that every morning and every evening she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand, and she saw Turquoise Southeby walking through the field behind of the inn, on her way between her home outside the village and the assortment of part-time jobs she held. She never looked at the inn, but as Ginny watched from the picture window, there was no doubt in her mind that the witch had chosen that path because she could parade in full view, swinging her hips as she walked. Ginny never mentioned it, and Harry never saw it. At least she was wearing clothes, thought Ginny.

Ginny and Harry took long walks through the fields and down country lanes near the village, and also spent a long, sunny afternoon visiting places on the Hogwarts grounds that were familiar and dear from their brief moments together before Albus Dumbledore’s death. They visited Hagrid, Fang, and Grawp, who were all delighted to see them, and Hagrid made Harry promise to come watch him teach some of his Care of Magical Creatures classes.

And so the week passed all too quickly, and on Saturday morning Ginny packed her bags and they Apparated back to the Burrow. Harry stayed for an hour or so to collect the rest of his belongings from the attic room, and returned with them to the Hog’s Head.

As she stood in the yard with her parents and watched Harry Disapparate, Ginny pressed her hand to the locket underneath her blouse, and realized that a wonderful moment in her life had ended. A wave of melancholy passed over her, but a hand squeezed her shoulder, and she turned to see her mum, also with a sad expression.

“It was a wonderful summer, darling,” Molly said. “I’m so happy he was here with us—with you.”

Ginny nodded, and suddenly her gloom passed as quickly as it had come. “And it’s going to be a wonderful year, Mum. Look, I never showed you what’s in the locket he gave me.” She took it out and opened it, and as Harry smiled at them, cupped her hands over it, and Molly peered into them.

“It’s those eyes, isn’t it?” she said, looking up with a slightly wicked grin. “He does have the eyes.” She laughed, and they walked back to the house arm-in-arm.

The weekend passed uneventfully, except that four or five times a day, every day, Ginny sent a love-owl to Harry and he sent one back. It was the first time since the day after the battle that they had been separated for so long. The notes back and forth became so hot that Ginny joked to Harry in one that Bailey was too young to be carrying such explicit messages; Bailey didn’t seem to mind, though, and the passionate letters continued.

Finally September 1 arrived and a taxi took Ginny and her parents, for the last time, to King’s Cross Station. When she came through the barrier to Platform Nine And Three Quarters, Harry was there. She let go her luggage trolley and ran to him, and until the engine’s whistle blew, they were completely unaware of the hundreds of people jostling around them, more than a few of them staring.

Her parents somehow got her trunk and Bailey’s cage onto the train, after which they had to interrupt the snog to say goodbye. Ginny looked around, and saw Keesha grinning at her from a carriage window; Luna was next to her, gazing serenely in another direction.

“This is it, love,” Ginny whispered. “But I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“I miss you. I love you,” Harry whispered back. “I haven’t stopped using the Bouquedelle. What will I do until Friday?”

“We’ll see each other again in a few hours,” she repeated with a laugh. “I love you too.” Her eyes were ablaze as she kissed him once more and ran to the train; it began to move just as she boarded. Leaning out the window next to Keesha and Luna, she looked back until she could no longer see him.


	16. Owls

Keesha hugged Ginny’s shoulders. “Come on, we have a compartment just down the corridor. And cheer up, he’ll be waiting on the platform when we get to Hogsmeade.”

Ginny sighed. “We had such an incredible summer, Keesha. I wish it had never ended.” She followed her friend into a compartment. “I get these bluesy moments, but there’s nothing really to be sad about. We’ll be seeing each other all the time, and I’ll be with him on the weekends. Hi, Luna,” she said as she and Keesha Levitated her trunk and Bailey’s cage onto the overhead. “Harry’s going to be only half a mile away in Hogsmeade, and I can send him an owl every night. Still . . .” She sighed again as they sat. “We had such a good time.”

“Maybe you’re pregnant,” Luna said as she sat and opened the latest issue of _The Quibbler_.

Keesha’s jaw dropped and Ginny stared at the magazine in front of Luna’s face. “Merlin, Luna,” she said when she had recovered her composure, “if I am, my parents should get a tuition refund. I used the charm Pomfrey taught us.” She looked at Keesha and giggled.

“I was just asking,” Luna said from behind her magazine. “If you are pregnant, I’d be interested in knowing what it’s like.”

Ginny shook her head and looked out the window; the outskirts of London were passing. She heard a noise in the corridor, and turned to see two young girls pulling large trunks past the compartment. She jumped up, opened the door and called to them, “Are you looking for someplace to sit? We have empty seats.”

They were the twins whose statues stood in the Fountain of Magical Brethren. They hesitated for a moment looking uncertainly at each other. “Come on,” Ginny smiled, “we won’t hex you.” They walked slowly back to the compartment, trailing their trunks, and Ginny stepped aside to let them in. Keesha smiled at them, and moved across to the other bench, leaving room for them to sit together. Luna gazed over the top of _The Quibbler_ , and the girls stared back, not sure what to make of her lima bean earrings.

Ginny closed the door. “Here, let’s get your trunks out of the way.” She and Keesha Levitated them up and into empty spaces on the overhead, and the two girls watched their rising luggage with their mouths hanging open. Ginny sat next to Keesha and pointed to the empty seats; the girls sat. “I’m Ginny, this is Keesha, and that’s Luna. Don’t mind her jewelry, it’s harmless.”

“Why would anyone wear harmful jewelry?” Luna asked.

“You’re first-years, aren’t you?” Keesha said after a moment. The twins both nodded. “What are your names?”

“Wait!” Ginny grinned. “You’re Emma and you’re Claire, right?” She pointed to one, then the other.

They giggled. “No,” said the second one. “I’m Emma, she’s Claire.”

Ginny laughed. “I have—had twin brothers who looked exactly alike. They were always pranking everyone, and we never knew which one had done it.”

“How did you know our names?” asked Claire. “Did you do magic?”

“No, I saw your statues in the Ministry of Magic. They were very nice. They look just like you.”

“Well,” said Emma, “we know who you are. You’re Ginny Weasley. We saw you snogging Harry Potter on the platform.”

Ginny and Keesha broke up in guffaws, and Luna lowered her magazine and peered at the twins.

“Touché!” said Ginny. “You two are pretty smart. I guess you’ll be sorted into Ravenclaw. Luna here is a Ravenclaw. She can show you around.”

The girls had identical expressions of horror on their faces, and Ginny and Keesha broke up laughing again, while Luna smiled briefly and raised the magazine in front of her face.

“Not Ravenclaw?” Ginny was still chuckling. “Which House then. Surely not Slytherin.”

“Gryffindor!” they exclaimed in unison. “We want to be in the same House as Harry Potter,” said Emma.

Ginny looked at Keesha. “Oh my, now that’ll embarrass him.” She turned back to the girls. “You can tell the Sorting Hat which House you want, but you don’t always get it. There’s nothing wrong with Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff, either. Keesha is in Hufflepuff.”

They shook their heads. “Gryffindor,” they said together.

“Okay, it’s Gryffindor, then. I’ll tell you what. If the Hat puts you both in Gryffindor, you can sit next to me at the Feast tonight, and I’ll help you get settled into your room.”

The girls looked pleased and a little relieved. “We’ll be sitting with you,” Claire said with certainty.

The train was passing through suburbs and towns, and the five girls settled in. The twins were full of questions, not only about Hogwarts, but also about the wizarding world. The afternoon passed into early evening, and when the tea trolley came along, the twins were delighted at the assortment of magical candies. They picked out two of everything and returned to their seats as Ginny and Keesha made their selections. Luna was still immersed in _The Quibbler_ , but reached absentmindedly into her pocket, took out a cucumber and started eating it.

As Ginny was waiting for Keesha to pay for her Chocolate Frogs, four boys sauntered through the door from the next carriage and started down the corridor. Ginny glanced at them and recognized four particularly obnoxious Slytherin seventh-years. She knew that they had all been in the Great Hall last spring before the battle, and had all walked out behind Pansy Parkinson when their entire House was dismissed by Professor McGonagall. Ginny moved to let them pass, but kept her eye on them.

They stopped at the trolley and looked over the selection. “Same old garbage,” said one as he picked up a Pumpkin Pastie and tossed it back into the wrong bin. He looked at Keesha with a sneer. “But why would that surprise me. The same old garbage collectors are buying it.”

“Excuse me, young man,” said the tea trolley witch sharply. “If you’re going to buy something, then do so and pay for it, otherwise move along and leave my customers alone.”

The boy glanced disdainfully at her, and contemptuously at Keesha. He looked her up and down, and Ginny saw her jaw tighten and her eyes narrow; Ginny moved her hand to her wand. The Slytherin’s voice dripped with loathing. “If it isn’t Mudbloods, it’s . . .”

“Do you have a problem with something?” Keesha said softly. “Like talking politely to someone who isn’t a traitor?”

“Traitor!” he snarled. “You mean a blood traitor like Potter’s little pet?” He turned and froze; Ginny’s wand was pointing at him.

Ginny spoke as quietly as Keesha had. “Move along like the lady said, and if I see you along here again, I’ll hex you into next week.”

The boy’s face had gone white and he backed up, but jumped when he bumped into Keesha’s wand. All four of the Slytherins moved quickly away; as they walked down the corridor the one who had spoken looked back, and Ginny raised her wand and glared at him. They went through the door at the end of the carriage and out of sight. Ginny and Keesha watched until they were gone, and put their wands away.

The witch handed each of them a cauldron cake. “Here, that’s for your trouble, and here’s three more for your friends.” She nodded at the twins and Luna. “Such rudeness. You’d think that people would learn from all the killing and fighting, but there are some who never will.” She sighed and pushed the trolley down the corridor to the next compartment.

Ginny and Keesha stepped inside, and as Ginny handed cakes to the twins, she had to stifle a laugh. They were huddled in the corner next to the window, looking both fearful and bewildered, and both had their wands out.

“What were you planning to do with those?” she grinned as she sat. “Maybe you should put them away. You could hurt someone, you know.”

“What did those boys want? What did they say to you?” Emma asked Keesha, lowering her wand. “Why were they so mean?”

Keesha didn’t reply at once; she scowled out the window before turning to Ginny. “He’s said things to me before, that one. I’ll cut his damn tongue out one of these days.”

Ginny grimaced, and the twins recoiled, looks of shock on their faces. “He called you a Mudblood, didn’t he?” Claire said. “I know what that is. Are you parents Muggles? Ours are.”

Keesha shook her head. “No, but it doesn’t matter. He made a comment about my skin. I swear, Ginny, I’m not going to take it again. Jace Kleinhead. With Crabbe and Goyle gone, he’s probably the worst one they’ve got. I was hoping he wouldn’t be back, but no such luck.”

The twins were listening avidly, while Luna, who had been watching everything with what was for her a great deal of interest, went back to her magazine. Ginny looked around at everyone. She didn’t want to say anything to the girls she would regret later; they might, after all, be Sorted into Slytherin, unlikely though that seemed, but she saw no reason not to tell them what reality was. Both she and Harry had almost died fighting people like those boys, and she was damned if she wouldn’t fight them now.

“They’re bullies from Slytherin,” she said to Emma and Claire. “Last spring they walked out of the castle right over to the Death Eaters while the rest of us stayed and fought. And some of us died. Remember I told you about my twin brothers? Well, one of them was killed, and now he’s buried in our back yard. If those four had their way, we would all be dead, and you two wouldn’t be on this train.”

“Because we’re Mudbloods,” Emma said.

“Don’t use that word!” Keesha snapped. “It’s ugly, and ugly people use it.” Emma cringed back in her seat, and Keesha’s face softened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. But don’t put yourself down because of who your parents are. That’s what those pigs are trying to do, so don’t do it for them.”

Emma and Claire sat in their seats, subdued. Suddenly, Luna spoke from behind _The Quibbler_. “We did win the war, you know. They lost the war.”

Ginny laughed. “Correct as usual, Miss Lovegood. That’s why you’re a Ravenclaw and we’re not. We need you to point out things like that.” The twins laughed, albeit a little uncertainly, and everyone relaxed. “Tell me,” Ginny asked, “how did you know who I am, and where did you learn that word—you know, Mudblood?”

“From Aunt Hermione,” Claire said. “She talks to us a lot.”

“Aunt Hermione?” Ginny’s eyebrows rose. “Hermione Granger is your aunt?”

“Not our real aunt,” Emma said. “We call her Aunt because she talks like a grownup.”

“And she talks a lot,” came from behind _The Quibbler_ , “just like you said.”

“I guess she does,” Ginny grinned. “And she told me about you when I was at the Ministry and saw your statues. How did you get to pose for them?”

“We were in Diagon Alley buying our school things, and Minister Shacklebolt saw us,” explained Claire. “So he took us to the Ministry of Magic and they made the statues. It was fun, they gave us lots of candy too.” She and Emma giggled.

“He’s my uncle, you know,” Keesha said.

Ginny looked at her in surprise. “No, I didn’t know. Things must have been hot for you last year. Did the Death Eaters go after your family?”

Keesha shrugged. “Not really. They probably would have eventually, but I think they were too busy trying to find Harry.”

Ginny looked out the window. They were speeding past open fields in the deepening dusk; she could just make out orchards and tall stands of wheat. A village with its lights glowing appeared and fell behind out of sight. She thought about Hogsmeade, and wondered how Harry was doing, and whether he would be able to greet the arriving train with treats and drinks. She suddenly missed him, and regretted not staying and helping him get the inn ready; he was doing it for her, after all. She leaned her head back against the cushion and stared up at the overhead. If she sent him a note, would Bailey get to Hogsmeade before the train? She wasn’t sure, so she looked out the window again, and waited for the time to pass.

The others in the compartment also fell silent, perhaps as a reaction to the altercation with the Slytherins. Luna finally finished _The Quibbler_ and just sat and looked across at the twins with her serene gaze. But her bulging, unblinking eyes seemed to disconcert them, and they looked away after a few moments, lost in their own thoughts, glancing at each other occasionally. Ginny had seen Fred and George like that, and knew there was some kind of communication there that only twins like them could understand. Her moodiness deepened, and she sighed and sank down, slouching more than sitting.

“Are you okay?” Keesha asked quietly. “We’ll be there soon. Do you know what Harry’s going to be giving out?”

Ginny shook her head, and straightened. “I should have stayed with him. He wanted me to, but this is my last time going to school on the Hogwarts Express, and I didn’t want to miss it. Now I miss him.”

“I know what you mean. I miss Neville. I saw him this morning, but he couldn’t come to see me off. He said he had something to do. I was a little angry, actually, especially after I saw how Harry said goodbye to you.”

Ginny returned her wide smile. “Yeah, that was pretty nice.” She looked at Luna and the twins; they all seemed to be lost in their own worlds. “He told me he loved me,” she said in a low voice, and giggled. “I already knew it, but he never actually said the words before.”

“He was right to say it.” Luna suddenly came out of what had looked like a trance and smiled at Ginny. “It’s so obvious. That’s why I wondered if you were pregnant.”

“Luna! I’m not pregnant! Will you please stop it?” Ginny glanced at the twins, who were looking from her to Luna, clearly hoping for more.

“Sorry,” Luna said, but kept smiling. “I won’t talk about it any more.”

Ginny saw Keesha grinning and finally smiled back; it was pure Luna, and it was impossible to stay angry or even annoyed at her.

The train had climbed into the Highlands, and dark woods slipped by; trees stood tall near the tracks. Soon the whistle blew and they started to slow. “We should put our robes on,” said Keesha, and they spent the next few minutes maneuvering between the seats and jockeying their trunks from the overhead. The whistle blew again and they saw the lights of Hogsmeade above the tracks. Ginny thought she recognized the Hog’s Head, set slightly off to one side, its chandeliers blazing through the open shutters. She suddenly wanted to hold Harry.

The train was moving slowly, and the platform came alongside. It was crowded with the usual wizarding porters, and Ginny also saw Hagrid standing near the tracks, waiting to lead the first-years to the boats on the lake. She was glad to see that Grawp was not with him; she couldn’t imagine what effect that would have on everyone, let alone the first-years.

The Hogwarts Express halted. Doors slammed open and students piled into the corridors, jostling and shoving. The twins suddenly looked apprehensive, and Ginny smiled at them.

“You have to go out now. Do you see that large man there?” She pointed out the window to Hagrid, but suddenly froze. At the back of the platform were about a dozen people, but they were in the shadows and she couldn’t see their faces. They were all wearing identical tee shirts with writing on them that she couldn’t make out, and they were standing behind a row of tables set up in front of the station house. She could see that the tables were piled high with the treats and drinks that Harry had promised. A banner stretched across the wall of the station behind the table, reading, “Dumbledore’s Army, Still Serving.”

“Come on!” Ginny cried and pushed through the others who were crowding at the window behind her. They joined the throngs in the corridor, and when Ginny stepped down onto the platform, a hand fell on her shoulder; she was spun around and found herself in Harry’s arms. As they kissed, they were buffeted by the crowd exiting the train and pushed aside as everyone surged towards the tables. They staggered and almost fell but Harry held her up, and Ginny grinned with delight.

“I missed you,” they said together, and laughed. But something was bothering Harry, and Ginny looked at him closely. “What is it?”

“Another Dark Mark.”

Ginny sucked in her breath. “No! When?”

“While I was in London. No one was at the inn except Winky. She was in the kitchen and heard something and ran out back. There were two of them, and she says one was a witch, but she didn’t see their faces. They Disapparated.”

“Turquoise Southeby!” Ginny scowled. “It has to be her.”

Harry shook his head again. “She was at the Three Broomsticks when it happened, and the witch was shorter than her. We’ll need a new ladle too. Winky chucked it at them and hit the elm tree. She was so angry, she did some kind of magic to it and Reparo doesn’t work.”

“Oh, Harry, I’m so sorry. If I had stayed with you, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“I’m sorry you weren’t here too, but I’m not sure it would have stopped them.”

“But you would have been here, not in London.”

He blinked and caressed her face. “But then I wouldn’t have got to snog you on the platform in front of all those people.”

“That’s silly, but I’m not sorry for it. Was the Dark Mark in the same place?”

“On the back wall again, but higher. That’s a puzzle, too. They didn’t use a ladder, and this time it wouldn’t go away with a scrubbing charm. I had to get, uh, well,” he grinned. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

He led a slightly confused Ginny to the row of tables. Students were crowded around, taking pastries and candies, as well as small bottles of butterbeer and Potio Vitae. Harry led her around the crowd where she could look down the tables, and when she saw who was there she gave a shriek and began laughing. Behind the tables, serving the free treats, were a half-dozen members of Dumbledore’s Army. At the far end were Ron and Hermione; Ginny also saw George, Dean, Parvati and Padma, Neville, and Ernie. The tee shirts that Ginny had noticed had the same slogan as the large banner—“Dumbledore’s Army, Still Serving”—and on the back of each shirt was a picture of a grinning boar, and above it, “The Hog’s Head Inn.”

Neville was the nearest server, and he waved at her; Keesha was standing next to him sporting a large grin. Ginny walked down behind the tables until she came to George, and poked him in the back. He turned and hugged her. “We fight on,” he said, “the endless war.” He laughed and handed her a bottle of Potio Vitae.

She handed it back. “No thanks. I tried it, but I don’t like it.” George gave it to a fourth-year Hufflepuff boy who was stuffing his pockets with brightly wrapped chunks of chocolate. “That’s not something from your shop, is it?” Ginny asked.

“Ah, sister, how could you say such a thing? These poor, innocent children. I would never slip them a Nosebleed Nougat. It would reflect poorly on Harry.”

“Right.” Ginny saw Hermione waving to her from the end of the table.

“Isn’t this brilliant?” Hermione gushed when Ginny walked down. “Harry asked me to send the message out, and all these people responded. Did he tell you about the Dark Mark? It was a real professional job this time. Whoever did it was very skilled, and I’ll bet it was the same person who Imperiused those two we caught. I had to use a pretty advanced variation of Evanesco to get rid of it, and it was tricky, because it could have taken the whole wall with it.”

Harry had come up behind Ginny, and put his arm around her and pulled her close. “Stan and Tony are standing guard, and I sent an owl to Pester, but he hasn’t answered yet. I’m wondering if he thinks it’s beneath his dignity.”

“He’s a busy man, I expect.” Ginny rolled her eyes.

The crowd was starting to thin as students made their way to the row of horseless carriages. “So how was the train ride?” Harry asked. But as Ginny was about to answer, she heard Hagrid’s booming voice.

“‘All right, everyone, it’s time to get to the castle. Harry, shut it down, we’ll be late an’ they’ll be blamin’ me.” He began herding students away from the tables. “Hurry up, Ginny,” he called to her, “them carriages won’t be waitin’ fer long.”

Ginny threw herself at Harry. “I wish I had stayed with you. I’m sorry,” she whispered in his ear. “Can you come to the castle tomorrow? At least we can see each other.” She put her arms around his neck and held herself tightly against him. “I’ll send Bailey with a letter tonight. I wish I was staying. I can’t stand not being with you, especially when things happen.”

He kissed her, put his hands into her hair, and pulled her head back to see her eyes. “I’ll be fine. George is staying tonight. He says he can sleep on the rug. And I will be at the castle tomorrow. Professor Flitwick came by the inn after we found the Dark Mark, and he wants to show me some spells that he says may help.”

“Good!”

They embraced again, and Ginny turned away, but stopped when she had gone a few steps, and turned. “Harry,” she called; he was walking towards Ron, who was throwing handfuls of candy at the backs of the departing students. “Your map. Don’t forget it.” He grinned and waved.

Ginny hurried to the row of horseless carriages and climbed into the last one. Three seventh-year Ravenclaw boys and two girls were already sitting in it. “Hey, Ginny,” Hector Freeman said; he was tall with black hair, and Ginny knew he had fancied Elizabeth Derby. “That was brilliant. Is Harry running the Hog’s Head? From the train it looked a lot different.”

Ginny nodded, and as the carriage began to move they all looked at the thestrals silently pulling them along. She suddenly realized that they all could see them, and knew why: everyone who had fought in the castle last spring had seen someone die. She sat back in her seat and a wave of grief wash over her.

“Are you okay?” Hector asked.

“I—I just realized we can all see thestrals now.”

Hector looked away. They rode the rest of the way in silence.

Ginny walked into the entrance and the Great Hall feeling very strange. Thinking about all the deaths had also brought to her mind the things that were now different for herself here at school. She was the only—and the last—Weasley child at Hogwarts; most of her best friends were gone, although she still had two very good ones with her, and Harry was close by; she had responsibilities beyond her schoolwork because she was a Quidditch captain; and it was her last year. And all the memories of the battle and its aftermath would be floating in the air like new ghosts, springing up unexpectedly and evoking unexpected feelings.

She sat at the Gryffindor table and waved at Dennis Creevey who was sitting a short distance away. Jimmy Peakes and Demelza Robins came over and congratulated her on becoming Quidditch captain. She greeted her roommates, Sarah Brushmore and Christina Shepherd, with whom she had nothing in common, but maybe because of that she didn’t mind living with them since they left her alone and pursued their own interests, which revolved around gossip and hairdos. Romilda Vane did not look at her, and Ginny hoped they could somehow avoid each other all year, because she was certain that if she cast a Bat-Bogey at the girl she would lose her Quidditch captaincy.

She spotted Luna and Keesha at their House tables, and noticed that the Slytherin table was not full. Jace Kleinhead was there, and he seemed to have taken the place of Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle at the center of a group of thuggish boys and their female hangers-on. But a few Slytherins, sitting at one end of the table, looked like they were trying to set themselves apart from Kleinhead and his gang, and Ginny wondered if it augured some kind of change in that House.

The staff table was full except for Professor Flitwick’s seat; he would be escorting the first-years in at any moment. Hagrid waved to her, and she smiled back. Looking down the row of teachers, she felt a shock when she saw, sitting at the end in the position usually taken by the teacher with the least seniority, Auror Morequest Pester.

She quickly looked up and down the staff table, and was able to account for every teaching position except Defense Against the Dark Arts. She realized, with not a little distaste, that Pester must be the new holder of that post. She sighed and thought that at least he seemed to be knowledgable, and maybe it was a good thing for Ron; Pester could not possibly hold two full-time jobs at the same time: Professor at Hogwarts and head of the Auror training program. And now she knew why he had not answered Harry’s owl.

She turned as the doors were flung open, and Professor Flitwick led the first-years down the center aisle. Ginny saw the twins, Emma and Claire, right behind the Professor, looking as awe-struck and nervous as the others, holding hands as they tried not to tread on Flitwick’s heels; he was a good deal shorter than they were, and their longer strides made it difficult for them to stay behind him.

The first-years reached the front of the Hall and stood in a tight bunch before the stool on which the Sorting Hat was perched. Ginny had not seen it since Riddle had set it on Neville’s head and ignited it, but it seemed no worse for that experience, meaning that it was still battered and barely able to keep its shape.

Professor Flitwick began to read the names of the new students. “Abigail Abernathy!” he squeaked, and a blond girl stepped forward. It took the Hat only seconds to put her into Slytherin, and she scowled fiercely as she walked to that table. Ginny watched her sit near the group around Jace Kleinhead, but she ignored their greetings and sat with her arms folded and her scowl intact.

The next one was a black boy named Sean Allen. He was also Sorted into Slytherin, but as he approached their table, the only ones applauding were the group sitting apart at the end; the others, except for the new girl, seemed almost shocked. Ginny sought Keesha, and when their eyes met, the Hufflepuff girl grinned and lifted her thumb.

“Claire Athair!” said Flitwick. Claire looked anxiously at her sister, climbed onto the stool, and sat with the Sorting Hat completely covering her face.

“Gryffindor!” it shouted, and Ginny clapped and welcomed her to the cheering table with a smile and a hug. She moved aside and Claire sat, holding Ginny’s hand and her breath until the Hat once again called out, “Gryffindor!” and Emma came running to join them.

The next name grabbed Ginny’s attention from her celebration with the twins. The Charms professor called out, “Zoroaster Black!” and a lanky boy with a shock of black hair stepped forward. Ginny had never heard of him; she would have to ask her father about this distant cousin. She watched him climb on the stool and be Sorted into Slytherin.

The ceremony continued, and finally James Yancey was Sorted into Ravenclaw, and the feast began. Ginny chatted with the twins, but found herself looking around every few minutes for the old seventh-years from last year; she had been friendlier with them than with her classmates, and it indeed felt strange without them. She began to think of Harry, and her mind wandered back to the inn and the rug and the four-poster. . . .

She was glad when the dessert dishes disappeared and Professor McGonagall rose to give her opening speech. Ginny had been composing a letter to Harry in her mind, and now wanted only to get up to her room and send Bailey off. She turned towards the front as the room grew quiet.

“Welcome to another year at Hogwarts,” the Headmistress began, “and a year which I fervently hope will not be as memorable as the last one. But we are in a new era now, and the great fear that hung over the entire wizarding world is gone, thanks in part to many of you. In some respects last year was a lost year, academically, but it was a year that those of you who were here may look back on as the most significant of your lives. Only time will tell. Meanwhile, the true function of Hogwarts resumes, and I expect everyone to buckle down and live up to the school’s reputation that was so bravely added to last year.”

She looked at the Slytherin table, and her face became even more serious and stern. “I will not sweep under the rug the circumstance that not every student did his duty last year. That is a fact. But, as the Head of this school I offer my hand to everyone in this Hall, and I expect my offer of reconciliation to be accepted with the same good grace in which I make it. I will not mention this again, nor do I wish to hear that anyone at Hogwarts, student or staff, has mentioned it. I urge everyone to find it in your heart to forgive, and to accept forgiveness.”

She looked around the room and smiled. “Enough. I welcome everyone back to school. I welcome all the new first-year students to the beginning of a great seven-year adventure.

“I have only three announcements. First, I wish to welcome Professor Morequest Pester to the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.” She turned and gestured to him, and he stood and off-handedly waved.

“Second,” McGonagall continued, “Quidditch sign-up sheets will be posted in each common room tomorrow. And third, Professor Hagrid wishes to inform everyone that his half-brother Grawp likes to sleep in on weekends, and requests that no one enter the forest behind his cabin before ten o’clock on Saturdays, Sundays, and bank holidays.” A murmur of both disbelief and amusement went through the Great Hall, but Hagrid beamed at McGonagall and nodded.

The Feast ended, and Ginny helped herd the first-year Gryffindors—four boys and four girls—up to the common room. The password was still “Everything’s fine,” and when the Fat Lady swung aside and Ginny entered with the rest, she felt another wave of melancholy strike her. Now she knew why she had not wanted to stay here when she and Harry had visited the castle on the day after her birthday, and she had somehow anticipated these feelings back then. The common room was to be her home for ten months, but for the past two she had shared her home with Harry, and it had come to feel that it was not home if he was not there with her. She had become accustomed to having him next to her, joking with her, taking meals with her, talking to her; accustomed to reaching out and caressing him and have his hands and his lips respond . . .

She tried to put those thoughts out of her head, they would only make her crazy. It was only three days until Friday, she would see him tomorrow, and meanwhile she could send owls. And she also had the locket with Harry’s eyes that, under the covers, were always the last thing she looked at before she slept, or at least when she slept alone.

Her spirits lifted somewhat, and she looked for Emma and Claire and saw them sitting at a table, talking to the two other new girls. She went over to them. “Come,” she smiled, “don’t you want to see your room?” They all jumped up.

“Is your room near ours?” Emma asked as they climbed the stairs.

“Mine is at the top, and yours is right here.” Ginny opened the door on the second landing. “This will be your room for seven years.”

The four girls walked in, excited anticipation on their faces as they saw the grand four-posters with their trunks lying next to them. On one trunk was a cage with a large gray owl. “Hans!” exclaimed one of the girls, and ran to it. The others found their beds, and Ginny left them happily exploring their new home.

She hurried upstairs; seeing the owl had only increased the urgency to send a note to Harry. She entered her room and saw Christina lying in bed, reading a magazine. She looked up.

“Ginny, there’s an owl outside that keeps scratching on the window. I think it’s for you, ‘cause it won’t come in for me.” She pointed to the window next to Ginny’s bed. Ginny saw a barn owl sitting on a gargoyle just outside, and when it saw her it hopped down to the sill and tapped the glass with its beak.

For a moment Ginny was confused. “Bailey? What are you doing out there? Why aren’t you . . .”

She looked around, and saw Bailey in her cage on her dresser, jumping around, trying to get a better look at the owl outside. Ginny opened the window and the owl flapped in and landed on the dresser, next to Bailey’s cage. It looked at her with a great deal of interest, puffed out its chest and hooted several times. Bailey slowly and deliberately turned her head completely around so that she was facing away from it.

Ginny turned to Christina. “When did it get here?”

“It was here when I came up, about fifteen minutes ago. Is that your owl?” She nodded towards Bailey. “She’s a nice one.”

“She was a birthday present from my brother. Her name is Bailey. But who sent this owl?”

She looked at it, and noticed for the first time a parchment tied around its leg. The owl didn’t seem interested in handing it over, though; it was still engrossed with Bailey, who continued to give it the cold shoulder.

Ginny watched the flirtation and, suddenly understanding, put her hand out. The owl pecked at it once and lifted its leg. She took the parchment and the owl went back to preening for the unmindful Bailey. Ginny sat on the bed and, with her heart beating faster, opened the letter. She lay back on the pillows while a very warm feeling washed over her.

 

 

> _My darling Ginny,_
> 
> _Meet McPherson. He is my new (barn) owl. You wanted me to get one, and so I did. I bought him in Diagon Alley after I saw you off at King’s Cross, and I wanted to surprise you and Bailey when you got to Hogwarts._
> 
> _I miss you so much, I can’t stand it. I never stop using the Bouquedelle, and I am both thankful and sorry for having it. Thankful because when I use it you are here with me, and sorry because you are not really here with me, and I can’t show you how much I love you and it drives me mad. I have not been able to think of anything but you since I saw you at Hogsmeade Station, and when Friday evening comes I want you to be here instantly, and I am not going to let you go until Sunday evening. So prepare yourself for a long weekend of making love. Of course I am smiling when I say that._

Ginny took a breath and looked over at Christina; she was immersed in her magazine—some kind of fashion publication—and was no longer paying any attention to either Ginny or the courting owls. Ginny pulled her hangings closed and continued reading.

 

 

> _Everything is fine at the inn, except that you are not here to share it with me. The place seems empty and useless without you, even though George is out in the parlor snoring on the rug. This is truly your place, and I am so happy that I was able to buy it so that you could come to it and make it a home for us._
> 
> _I am lying in our bed having daydreams about you, and I know that I will dream about you tonight. I love you so much._
> 
> _Harry_
> 
> _PS. At midnight I will look for you on the map. Wiggle your toes at midnight and I will know you are thinking of me as I will be of you. I love you._

Ginny pushed back part of the hanging and peeked out at the clock on Christina’s dresser; It was fifteen minutes until midnight. She quickly got out of bed, opened her trunk, and took out her writing kit. She sat on the edge of the bed and used the trunk to write on.

 

 

> _Harry my love,_
> 
> _At midnight my toes will be yours, and on Friday the rest of me will be yours, for as long as you want, just as long as I can have your toes too, and the rest of you as well._
> 
> _McPherson is a beautiful owl, and he is trying mightily to impress Bailey, but I think she will take her time and make him prove himself. But I have confidence in him, and I’m sure in the end he will get his girl. Thank you for buying him, it makes me know even more how chivalrous and thoughtful you are. When I start to feel that way it becomes very difficult to stay here and not fly over to Hogsmeade where I can be with you and let you sweep me off my feet. Where did you say that secret passageway was under the Whomping Willow?_
> 
> _The Feast was very interesting, and I will tell you all about it when I see you, unless there are other things you would rather do than talk, that is. Those two girls whose statues we saw at the Ministry were Sorted into Gryffindor, and Morequest Pester is teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts (can you believe it!!??)._
> 
> _It’s getting close to midnight, so I’ll give this letter to McPherson, and I will tell him to speed it to my heart’s love as fast as he can. I will fall asleep tonight looking at your picture in the locket under my covers, so that I can see the lights of your eyes, the lights that are more precious to me than life._
> 
> _I love you._
> 
> _Ginny_

She quickly tied the parchment onto McPherson’s leg, but had to pick him up—while he squawked in protest—and carry him to the window and toss him into the air. He gave a wistful look back at Bailey and sped off into the night.

Ginny changed into her nightgown and dove into bed, pulling the hangings closed after her. As the castle clock struck midnight, she pulled the covers over her head and opened the locket. Green points of light sparkled, and she was sure that she could sense a magical presence as she moved her feet up and down, giggling as she did.  When she stopped, she looked at the locket one more time before closing it and tucking it inside her nightgown. She drifted off to sleep with a tingling in her breasts, and knew that a half-mile away Harry was dreaming of her.


	17. Chocoballs Via Owl

Ginny lay in bed for a long time after she awoke the next morning. She had slept soundly and had dreamed, but she couldn’t recall them clearly. She could remember being with Harry and being very happy; they had done things to make each other laugh. In her dreams there was no need for anything or anyone else.

The yearning she had felt in her dreams echoed in her waking heart. Was it possible that she needed only Harry to be happy? If so, what was she doing here? Why did she need to be at Hogwarts sleeping alone in a room with two people she might never see again after she left school? She could walk out and walk down the lane to the village, up the stairs to the flat, and Harry would be there. Their life together would begin, and everything would be perfect. She felt the locket next to her skin and put her hand on it.

She pushed back the hangings and sat on the edge of the bed. Bailey was clucking in her cage, ducking her head up and down. Ginny got up, let her out the window, and watched her circle up until she disappeared over the castle in the direction of the Owlery. She would be happy there, and maybe McPherson would visit her, and the two owls would get on with their lives.

Ginny sat on her bed again and stared at nothing as the emotional wash of her dreams ebbed and flowed. She knew that she couldn’t just leave school: her parents, her friends, even Harry would not want that. Luna and Keesha would wonder how she could do such a thing after all the excited conversations they had had about the upcoming school year; they might even be hurt.

As she took the locket out, opened it, and smiled back at Harry, something made her glance at the window. He was coming.

She threw open her trunk—she had not unpacked it last night—and quickly dressed. She heard her roommates stirring behind their hangings and hurried out before she had to start listening to the morning’s news report about last night’s social activities in the common room, including all the new romantic pairings. She hurried downstairs, out the portrait hole, and came down the marble staircase into the entrance hall just as Harry was closing the great oak door behind him.

Ginny stopped on the bottom step and grinned. He beamed back and walked over to her; students on their way to breakfast gave them a wide berth but unabashedly gawked.

Harry took her hands. “Good morning. You didn’t eat breakfast yet?”

Ginny shook her head and moved closer. “Did you?”

“Yeah, Winky insisted, but I’ll join you.” They walked into the Great Hall and Harry sat on the end of the bench with his back to the table and his elbows resting on it. Ginny sat next to him and started serving herself.

“I had a dream last night,” she said.

“Oh?” Harry grinned again. “About what?”

“Us. When I woke up I wanted to leave school and go to the flat.”

“ _Our_ flat. Why didn’t you?”

“Harry, I have classes.” She took a slice of bacon and slowly chewed it. “It did cross my mind, just to drop out and . . . and go to our flat.”

Harry nodded to Professor McGonagall as she passed on her way to the staff table. He saw Professor Pester, who was already there, eating breakfast with his head buried in a large notebook. “Looks like he’s boning up. Do you know yet when you have his class?”

Ginny glanced at Pester. “No, but I expect I’ll be getting my schedule pretty soon. So . . .” She took a sip of pumpkin juice, put the glass down and looked at Harry. “What do you think of my idea?”

“I think if you had shown up I would have opened the door, pulled you inside, and dragged you to the bedroom. But I don’t know what would have happened after we woke up.”

“Neither do I.” She pushed her plate away, and Harry rubbed the back of his hand against her arm. She leaned towards him and their lips came together. They heard giggling, and looked up to see Emma and Claire sitting down across from them.

“Hello,” said Harry. The twins giggled again and squirmed in their seats. “You’re Emma and you’re Claire, right?”

“No!” Claire laughed, “you got us wrong, just like Ginny did.”

“Okay, well, I’m Harry Potter. Ginny told me you both got Sorted into Gryffindor. Welcome.”

They blushed. “We know who you are,” said Claire. “We’ve seen you snog Ginny twice now.”

“Claire!” Emma frowned. “Don’t say things like that.”

Harry laughed. “So,” he arched his eyebrows, “that’s how you know who I am, because I snog Ginny?”

“Of course not,” Claire replied. “Aunt Hermione showed us your picture in the _Daily Prophet_ , and we can also see your scar.”

Emma poked her ribs. “Shush!” she whispered. “That was rude.”

“No, it’s all right,” said Harry. “It _is_ my scar. I didn’t put it there, but it will never go away.”

While the twins considered this, Ginny said to Harry, ”They also told me that they wanted to be Gryffindors because of you.”

“That’s very flattering,” Harry said to the girls, “but you must be true Gryffindors because the Sorting Hat put you here. I didn’t have anything to do with it.”

He was saved from further revelations of the twins’ involvement in his personal life by the arrival of Professor Flitwick, who was passing out class schedules; he handed one to Ginny.

“I’ll be in my office at ten,” he said to Harry. “Will I see you then?”

“Yes, Professor. I just came to the castle a little early to, um—”

Flitwick laughed, a high, tinkling bell-like sound that caused nearby students to turn and look. “A very good reason to be here,” he chuckled. “I’ll see you then. And I’ll see you in class tomorrow morning, Miss Weasley.” He waved his hand and two schedules floated over the table to the twins, who snatched them out of the air and began looking them over. He proceeded down the table handing a parchment to each student.

“So what do you have?” Harry turned around and looked over Ginny’s shoulder as she examined her schedule; he put his hand on her thigh under the table and began moving it up her leg.

“Harry, not here. I have a nine o’clock Herbology.”

He leaned so that his chest was pressed against her back. “I dreamed about you, too. I can’t tell you here, but I’ll show you on Friday.” He moved his hand again.

Ginny smiled at the twins and took the errant hand firmly in hers, pushing it away but not letting go. She stood, stepped over the bench and leaned down with her mouth next to Harry’s ear.

“Go get your cloak before you see Flitwick,” she said in a low voice. “I’m free from noon until two. The hammocks must still be there. I’ll meet you in the entrance hall.” She quickly moved away and was out the door before Harry could do more than open his mouth; he watched her figure disappear around the corner.

He glanced around and saw the twins watching him raptly. He cleared his throat. “When is your first class?”

“We have Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall in fifteen minutes,” said Emma. “What were you and Ginny talking about?”

“Nothing.” Harry rose. “I have to get back to the inn now. Have a good class. It was nice meeting you.”

Harry was back in an hour with his Invisibility Cloak tucked inside his pocket. He went up to the seventh floor and waited outside Professor Flitwick’s office, sitting on the floor leaning against a pedestal on which stood a suit of armor that made occasional creaking noises as it shifted its legs or moved its head. His mind wandered back to that frustrating day-long search for Ginny the day after the battle, and the passion of their sleepless night in the hammock. He stared at the opposite wall and could not divert his thoughts from the upcoming rendezvous with Ginny. When Professor Flitwick arrived and stood in front of him, he had to tap Harry’s knee with his wand to get his attention.

Harry awoke from his reverie and jumped up. “Oh, sorry, Professor.”

“That’s all right, Harry; I’m running a little late, and I have another class in less than an hour, so why don’t we get to work.” He led the way into his office.

Harry had never been in it. It was located in a high corner of the castle and had large windows on two sides. One of the windows extended up into the ceiling, creating a skylight. It gave the room a high, open feeling, which Harry found interesting, given the Professor’s tiny stature; it also reminded him of the Ravenclaw common room. The walls were covered with dozens of small picture frames, and those that were occupied contained portraits of fairies, flitting in and out of the frames and chattering in high, melodious voices. As Harry walked past, he saw a few of them wink and blow a kiss at him.

Where there was empty wall space there were bookcases, crammed with books, reaching to the ceiling. At first Harry wondered why Flitwick would stack shelves so high—he couldn’t reach anything more than four feet off the ground—but decided that a wizard as talented as he could either Levitate himself or Summon any book he wanted.

The room was dominated by a large gilt frame hung on the wall behind the Professor’s cluttered desk. In it, Rowena Ravenclaw sat in a throne-like chair and watched Harry as he approached. Flitwick ignored her, climbed onto a stool behind the desk, and waved Harry into a chair that suddenly appeared right behind his legs. As Harry sat, he was very conscious of being inspected by the portrait.

Flitwick peered at a parchment sitting on the desk, but pushed it aside and looked up; he noticed Harry’s furtive glances at the portrait. His blue eyes twinkled under bushy brows.

“Ah, yes. She’s been impatient to meet you ever since last spring.” He glanced back. “But we can talk later, if you don’t mind, my dear. Harry has some urgent business with me, and my time is limited.”

Ravenclaw frowned, nodded curtly, and walked out of the frame; she had not spoken a word.

“Don’t mind that,” the Professor said. “She has a rather haughty nature, and maybe resents the fact that a non-Ravenclaw found her lost diadem. But no matter, I think when you do talk to her, you’ll find her charming and, it goes without saying, very intelligent.”

Harry nodded; he wasn’t sorry that Rowena Ravenclaw had left. Her eyes seemed to penetrate his thoughts, and since those consisted mostly of a jumble of Ginny and a room full of hammocks, he would just as soon not have anyone read them.

“Is there anything I can do about those Dark Marks, Professor?” he said as he tried to put the distracting images of Ginny out of his head. “I’m starting to think that it’s not anyone from Hogsmeade, which means that it’s a lot bigger than a prank. And whoever is doing it is pretty talented.”

“I agree with all that.” Flitwick leaned back and put his stubby legs up on his desk and his hands behind his head. For an instant Harry feared that he would topple backwards onto the floor, but a backrest appeared on the stool. “But those are questions for the Aurors. How strongly do you want to protect the building? There’s a trade-off, you see. The better it’s protected, the more difficult it is to enter, or even find. The most effective protection is the Fidelius, but that prevents almost anyone from finding it at all. And you’ve seen what can be done with multiple layers of protection, which is what Professor Dumbledore put on your house at Grimmauld Place.”

“Well . . . can’t we put something up that will just keep the Dark magic off? Or maybe just detect when someone writes something on the wall?”

“That is a sound idea. The situation, as I see it, is that some of the vandalism has been caused by non-magical methods, like painting graffiti. If you put up a spell to prevent that, every bird that perches on your chimney will set the alarm off. But . . .” He thought for a moment. “Yes, it should be simple enough to detect something being written on an outside wall.” He jumped down from the stool, and walked past Harry into the center of the room.

“Come here,” he beckoned. “Stand next to me.” Harry came and stood by the Professor and took out his wand; Flitwick was already holding his. “It’s a type of shield charm that surrounds and covers something, like the wall of your inn. It warns you when something touches it, like a paintbrush or a stone being thrown. When that happens, the wand that cast the protective spell—yours, in this case—will vibrate, or warm up, or cool off, or light. You can set it to whatever kind of warning you like.”

He pointed his wand at a window, made a circular motion, and called out, _”Proeido!“_ The window glowed a dim bluish color, then cleared. Flitwick took a quill from his robes and handed it to Harry. “Write something on the window.”

Harry took the quill, dipped it in an inkpot sitting on the desk, and went to the window. He wrote _The Hogs Head Inn_ , and a moment after he was finished he heard a low humming sound. Professor Flitwick held up his wand.

“The type of notification is determined by the hand movement. The incantation is the same.” He pointed his wand again and said, ” _Finite,”_ and for a moment the window glowed again. “Now you try it.”

Harry moved away from the window and pointed his wand, but before he could move it or say anything, one of the panes in the center, where his wand was aimed, glowed. “What happened?” he blurted.

Flitwick stared at the window, then at Harry. “Were you going to say the spell? Was it in your mind?”

Harry wished that this had not happened. It was another example of his phoenix wand’s new potency that was, he was certain, a result of its being repaired by the Elder Wand, something he did not want to talk about.

He raised his wand again, and before Professor Flitwick could react, he made the circular motion and said, _”Proeido!”_ This time the entire window glowed, as it had for the Professor. Flitwick tilted his head and peered up at Harry for a moment, then took the quill and went to the window. He stood on his tiptoes, reached up, and wrote _Wand magic_ and Harry heard his wand hum in his hand.

Flitwick climbed back onto his stool and tossed the quill down, “You are a fast learner, Harry, but then you always were.”

Harry tried to think of something to get Flitwick’s mind off what had happened. “So do you think it will work on the entire inn?”

“I think you can make it work,” Flitwick said wryly. “If you take a look at Fillmuck’s _Portable Spellery_ you’ll find all the wand motions there, as well as some refinements that should keep animals from setting it off.” He looked at his watch, “It’s time for my next class. Do you still want to take lessons from me this fall?” His look made Harry uncomfortable, and he wondered briefly about Legilimency, but quickly dismissed it; the Professor had no real reason to use it.

“Uh, yeah, I do, Professor. I missed my last year of school, and I don’t have the brains that Hermione has to learn things by myself, so yes.”

“Good.” Flitwick smiled. “It will be interesting.” He nodded again, and Harry said goodbye and left.

He headed down to the library to look up the book Flitwick had mentioned, but he also wanted to think about his wand. He hadn’t done much serious magic with it since the battle—aside from dealing with the Muggles on the beach—mostly fun things with Ginny during the summer and, of course, the birth control charms. When he had tried to Stun the vandals behind the inn, the spell had flown high, and he was sure it was because he was not used to controlling the wand. He needed someone to help him learn how to do that, but he realized he hadn’t thought it out well, because now he might have to tell Professor Flitwick about the Elder Wand.

Maybe he could come up with another fib for why his wand was so different. He had told Saliyah Ushujaa last summer that it was because Riddle had passed more power to him with the Killing Curse in the Forest. He doubted Flitwick would believe that, just as he had seen skepticism in Saliyah’s face. He had a couple of weeks to think of something better, though, and he could get Ginny’s help.

That thought put his mind on a different tack, and he forgot completely about his wand and the Charms book. He found a deserted aisle, slipped under his cloak, and made his way back to the entrance hall. He had to wait only a few minutes until classrooms began to empty, and people began streaming into the Great Hall for lunch. He spotted Ginny coming up from the dungeons with Luna and Keesha; she said something to them, and they went on into the Great Hall, while Ginny stood near the marble staircase.

He walked over to her and called her name. She looked around and smiled briefly as Harry stuck his foot out from the cloak so she could see it. She glanced around, nobody was looking, and ducked under.

He kissed her, which was not too comfortable because her book bag was between them. “How were your classes?” he whispered, as they started climbing the stairs.

“It’s going to be tough. I just had Potions, and Slughorn is having us do the last five chapters of _Advanced Potion Making_ all over again because the term ended early last year. We’ll have to catch up _and_ finish this year’s textbook.” She sighed and looked down.

“I’ll help, if I can,” Harry said, putting his arm around her waist.

“That’ll be nice.”

They didn’t speak until they were standing in the seventh-floor corridor in front of the wall where the door to the Room of Requirement would appear. Harry waited until two Ravenclaw girls passed, and, with a grin, squeezed Ginny’s waist. “Here we go.” They started walking up and down, and on the third pass they stopped. Nothing had happened.

Harry’s brow furrowed. “What’s wrong? I was asking for the same thing I did after the battle.” He started walking again, pulling Ginny along. Again nothing happened. “Maybe it’s this cloak.” He looked down the corridor; no one was in sight so he took off the Cloak and began walking again as Ginny watched, but no door appeared.

“I don’t get this,” he said irritably. “Why doesn’t it work?” He stopped and looked at Ginny; she had a small crease on her forehead. “Is something wrong?”

She said nothing for a moment, but then seemed to make a decision and came and put her hands on his chest; he put his on her shoulders.

“Harry, it’s me. I . . . I don’t feel right about this. I’m sorry,” she added quickly as Harry’s hands dropped and he looked at her in dismay. “I shouldn’t have said what I did at breakfast. You were making me crazy, I wanted you so much when you touched me and . . . and I said something I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”

“But I’ve been thinking about you all morning! Why don’t you want to? What’s wrong?”

“Harry, love, nothing is wrong. No, that’s not true. We shouldn’t be creeping around like this, under your Cloak. I love you too much. I’m not saying we should advertise it, but I don’t want to sneak off someplace every time we make love. And . . .” she hesitated. “Harry, I have to concentrate on schoolwork. If I don’t, I’ll fail every class. Please, don’t be angry.”

Ginny reached to put her hand on his crestfallen face, but Harry took a step back, lifted his hands in a shrug, and let them drop to his sides. He looked away from her down the corridor, and when he looked back he was scowling. “I really wanted this.”

He abruptly started to stride away. Ginny was speechless for a moment, but before she could hurl angry words, he suddenly stopped and turned back. Her anger vanished when she saw his eyes.

“Ginny,” he said in a strangled voice, “what am I doing? That was so stupid. Of course you’re right.” He held his hands out to her and she came. He took her face in his hands and kissed her. “You’re always right. I’m sorry, I’ve been a git all day.”

She smiled up at him. “No, you were gallant, and it was partly—no, mostly my fault. I shouldn’t have said what I did, and how could I expect you not to jump at it?”

“It would be impossible.” He looked down. “I’d have to be dead.”

“Don’t say that. Listen, I’m still free until two, so let’s have a quick lunch and go for a walk down by the lake. It’s beautiful out, and I need to clear my head before Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

“Ah, peacock Pester,” Harry laughed. “Ask him about the owl I sent yesterday.” He put his cloak back in his pocket and they started down to the Great Hall. “I got a spell from Flitwick to use on the inn. But,” he glanced around and lowered his voice, “my wand went nutters and he noticed, of course. I still want to take lessons from him, but I don’t know what to tell him about the Elder Wand. Here, give me that.”

Ginny smiled and handed him her book bag. “Still the gallant one. You don’t want to tell him about the Wand, do you?”

Harry shook his head, but didn’t answer as they were now in the crowded entrance hall. They found seats at the Gryffindor table, and ate while Ginny fended off questions from Jimmy Peakes about the Quidditch team; he told her that the sign-up sheet had been posted just before lunch, and there were already twenty names on it.

“We’ll talk about it this afternoon,” she said. “I can’t say anything until I see who’s on it.” She and Harry finished eating and left the Hall. They passed Emma and Claire on their way out, but the twins were having an excited conversation with four other first-years about the Wingardium Leviosa spell they had just learned, and didn’t notice them.

It was sunny and warm outside as Harry and Ginny walked down the lawn to the lake. Harry noticed that she steered them away from the path to Hagrid’s cabin; he didn’t say anything, but knew that she was avoiding the place where Elizabeth Derby had died.

They found one of their favorite secluded spots at the edge of the Forest not too far from the White Tomb, and when Ginny pushed him down on the soft grass, Harry wondered for a moment if she had changed her mind. She kissed him passionately and moved her hands under his shirt, but after a moment rolled off and took a breath. She lay on her back and Harry leaned over her on his elbow and caressed her face. She started to speak, but he put his fingers on her lips.

“I’m fine waiting until Friday,” he said. “We’ll have a dinner party, just the two of us, catered by Winky, and it will last all weekend.”

She took his hand. “That sounds like a very nice party. Should I bring anything?”

“Dessert. I mean, yourself.”

“Yum.” She laughed and started to pull him down again, but Harry stopped her.

“No, I mean it. You have work to do, your classes, and organizing the team. You’ll have to deal with everyone who thinks they’re the next Viktor Krum. Here, sit up.”

He sat behind her and started running his fingers through her hair. “Wait,” she said, and reached into her book bag and took out a comb. “Use this.”

Harry combed her hair as she sat between his legs. They didn’t speak, but listened to the leaves rustling in the breeze. After a moment Ginny turned her head and looked at him. “I love you so much.”

Harry smoothed her hair with his hand. “Your hair is the second most beautiful thing in the universe. When we have kids, I want them to have your hair.”

Ginny laughed. “Ordering up your children already? Okay, I want them to have green eyes.”

“I’ll do my best if you will.”

“That means lots of desserts.” She leaned back against him and closed her eyes; Harry put his arms around her, and they were still, until Ginny finally sighed and sat up. “My mind is as clear as it will ever be. I think I’m ready for Morequest Pester.” They stood, but he stopped her as she started to walk.

“I didn’t get to tell you that I love you too.”

They kissed, and Harry picked up her book bag and they walked back to the castle. They parted on the steps outside the oak doors, and Harry waited until she started up the marble stairs in the entrance hall before turning down the curving drive, wondering how he was going to survive until Friday.

Professor Pester had put his own decorative stamp on the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, as had all his predecessors. Ginny walked in and saw posters lining the walls, but these were not photos of tortured, agonized victims of the Dark Arts like the ones Professor Snape had displayed. These were famous Aurors from the past and present. The first one she noticed was Alastor Moody, whose disfigured face glared at her from behind the desk. Rufus Scrimgeour was there, as was Kingsley Shacklebolt with his gold earring. She recognized a few others, but most were unknown to her, and she could tell from the style of robes some wore that they had served in the distant past, maybe even thirty years ago. She looked for Nymphadora Tonks, but her friend was not there: too young to have been noticed by Morequest Pester, Ginny assumed.

She sat next to Keesha, and soon Luna wandered in and joined them. She looked at the posters and smiled.

“Hi, Ginny. Hi, Keesha. I’m glad it’s redecorated. I hated all those Death Eater masks that the Carrows put up. Did they stay up for the whole year? I wasn’t around, you know.”

“They stayed up,” Keesha said, “until Harry got here.” She smiled at Ginny. “I heard that you already met Professor Pester.”

“Yeah. He seemed to be very impressed with himself, but I think he does know his stuff. Sort of Gilderoy Lockheart with brains.” Keesha laughed, and Luna stared at the posters.

Ginny looked around at the other students, and saw, to her displeasure, that Jace Kleinhead was sitting in a back row with a few other Slytherins. He wouldn’t look at her, even after she deliberately stared at him for almost a minute. As she turned, the door opened and Professor Pester entered. The room fell silent as he walked to the front, placed the notebook Ginny had seen him with at breakfast on the desk, and turned to face them. He did not smile, but had a very serious, business-like expression.

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Professor Morequest Pester, and I will be teaching you Defense Against the Dark Arts. This is a N.E.W.T. level class, and I will have N.E.W.T. level expectations of each of you.” He looked slowly around the room; his eyes paused on Ginny, and he nodded to her. “The subject matter will be from your seventh-year textbook, but it will be liberally supplemented with material from my own extensive and excellent experience as a professional Dark wizard hunter. We have a problem, however.”

He started walking around the class, his hands clasped behind his back. “As far as Defense Against the Dark Arts is concerned, your last year here was a total waste. The person who taught it was a criminal who taught criminal behavior.” He stopped in front of the Slytherins in the back row; everyone else was turned around to look at him. “We will have to cover two year’s worth of material in one year. Don’t expect any slack time here, and don’t expect me to tolerate even a hint of anyone’s practicing Dark Arts.” He said the last directly to the Slytherins, and Jace Kleinhead glowered at him.

Pester turned on his heel and marched back to the front, looking at each student as he passed. He paused next to Luna, who was gazing serenely up at the ceiling. “Excuse me, Miss, are you listening to me?”

She blinked and fixed her bulging eyes on him. “No, not at this moment,  Professor, because you aren’t saying anything.”

A titter passed around the classroom, and Ginny could see Keesha’s sides shaking as she suppressed a laugh. Pester gave Luna an annoyed look and continued on to the front; he sat behind his desk, opened his notebook, ran his finger down the first page, paused a moment, and looked directly at Luna. “Non-verbal incantations. Who can tell me what they are? Miss Lovegood?”

Luna smiled at him. “Is this a trick question?”

Pester stared at her for a moment. “I can assure you, Miss Lovegood, I do not ask trick questions. Can someone answer?”

“It’s where you say the incantation in your head,” Hector Freeman called out.

“Yes, that’s right!” Luna exclaimed before Pester could continue. She turned to look at Hector. “Ten points to Ravenclaw!” She was the only one who laughed, and turned back to the front. “I’m sorry, Professor, I was just trying to lighten things up a bit.”

“Wands out!” said Pester sharply. “Pair up! I want you to take turns using Expelliarmus and Protego on each other, non-verbally.”

Ginny nudged Keesha. “You take Luna,” she whispered, “otherwise no one will.” Keesha nodded and tapped Luna on her shoulder. Luna turned with a surprised and then a pleased expression. “Thanks, Keesha,” she said, and smiled again.

Ginny paired with a Hufflepuff girl who she knew only from classes, Ruth Madison. She wasn’t very good at first, and Ginny had no trouble Disarming her almost every time she cast the spell. She wasn’t sure why she herself was so adept with a non-verbal spell, though. She had a tiny suspicion that it had something to do with Harry, who was very good at it.

Professor Pester walked around the room, giving instructions and correcting hand movements. When he stopped to watch Ginny and Ruth, Ginny glanced at him, and he nodded to her with the same sardonic smile he had used behind the inn. Ginny frowned, and at that moment Ruth cast her first successful non-verbal Expelliarmus and Ginny’s wand flew up into the air and sailed across the room onto the floor, where Jace Kleinhead sneered at her and kicked it under a cabinet.

“Never let yourself be distracted, Miss Weasley,” Professor Pester said, and walked away.

Ginny looked ruefully at him while he was helping two other students. “Did you see where my wand went?” she asked Ruth.

She nodded at the cabinet. “Under there. Kleinhead kicked it.”

“Give me your wand for a second,” Ginny said quietly. She walked with it to the side of the room where the Slytherins were attempting to cast their spells; they all smirked at her. Without taking her eyes from Jace, she pointed Ruth’s wand at the base of the cabinet. _”Accio wand,”_ she said inside her head, and when it was in her hand, she pointed it at Jace, smiled sweetly, and the next instant he was thrown across the room against the wall. He slid down and thudded to the floor, lying there, dazed, and looking at her fearfully.

“I didn’t realize you were paired with Mr. Kleinhead,” Professor Pester said from behind her. “It does seem as though you’ve mastered the technique.” He walked to the Slytherin boy, who was gasping for breath, picked up his wand, pulled him off the floor by his arm and handed him the wand. “Protego. That’s the shield charm. Are you familiar with it?”

Kleinhead glared and pulled his arm away, then turned his glower on Ginny and went back to his seat, where he was joined by the rest of the Slytherins who looked daggers at Ginny until she blew them a kiss and they looked away.

“Seats, everyone!” Pester said; Ginny and Keesha grinned at each other as they sat. The Professor continued. “The first part of today’s homework assignment will be to read the first four chapters of your text, and write twelve inches summarizing them. By the end of next week everyone must be proficient at non-verbal spells, so we can move on.”

He glanced at his watch. “We have about fifteen minutes left. I want to discuss the subject of Unforgivable Curses. Please take notes.” Ginny perked up; was he doing this because of the dead weasel? She took out parchment and quill, and bent over her desk as Pester began.

“You all know what an Unforgivable Curse is, and you all know that it’s illegal to use one. A few years ago, as I’m sure you all remember, an imposter disguised as Alastor Moody demonstrated them in this classroom, and he would have got into a lot of trouble if Headmaster Dumbledore had not supported him. Mad-Eye Moody was one of the greatest Aurors, and he captured more Dark wizards than any Auror ever, but personally I do not think what the imposter did here was right. Now, part of my job as teacher of Defense Against the Dark Arts is—”

He stopped and everyone looked up. He was staring at Luna, who was again gazing up at the ceiling. Her quill was lying on the desk; she had not written a single word. Pester cleared his throat. “Miss Lovegood, would you care to join us?”

She looked around. “Where are we going?”

Pester ignored the sniggering. “I have been talking. Can you recall for me what I said? It was important, I think.”

“You said, ‘You all know what an Unforgivable Curse is, and you all know that it’s illegal to use one. A few years ago, an imposter disguised as Alastor Moody demonstrated them in this classroom’—”

“Thank you, Miss Lovegood!” Pester cut her off.

“You’re welcome, Professor,” she said cheerfully. “Is there anything else you forgot that you want me to tell you?”

“Class dismissed!”

Ginny and Keesha controlled their laughter until they were in the corridor with Luna where they fell into each others arms and couldn’t stop, until Professor Pester came out of the classroom and swept past them. He strode quickly down the hall and around a corner.

“Luna, that was brilliant!” Ginny chortled and wiped tears from her eyes. “I didn’t know you could memorize things like that.”

“Oh, yes,” she said seriously, “I can remember all kinds of things. I learned how to do it from my dad.”

Keesha burst out laughing again, followed by Ginny. Luna smiled uncertainly, but also looked pleased with herself.

“You got us out of more homework,” Keesha said, trying to catch her breath. “Yes indeed, that was brilliant!”

“I did? That’s probably for the best. He didn’t seem to know what he was doing.” Luna waved and turned up the spiral staircase leading to the Ravenclaw tower.

Ginny also waved to Keesha. “See you later. I’ve got to start organizing the Quidditch team.” They parted, and Ginny headed for the common room. She came through the portrait hole and saw a small group of students gathered around the notice board; Jimmy Peakes saw her and beckoned. “Let me put my books away,” she called. “I’ll be right back.”

When she returned, the crowd had grown, and they all turned and opened a path to the notice board. She took the Quidditch sign-up to a table and sat. Jimmy, Demelza Robins, and Ritchie Coote also took seats as the rest crowded around. Ginny ran her finger down the list; there were only four experienced players, including herself, which was not necessarily bad, but she noticed that no one had signed up to play Keeper.

She looked at the faces around her. “No one wants to try out for Keeper?”

There was silence, until a small voice spoke from the back. “I will.” Dennis Creevey pushed his way to the table and stood grinning at Ginny.

“You’re too small,” Jimmy said. “You couldn’t even block one goal, let alone all three.”

“I am not too small!” Dennis exclaimed. “Giulio Delucca on Napoli United is an inch shorter than me, and he’s the best in the Italian league.”

“He’s at least two inches taller, and that’s the weakest league on the continent,” Jimmy said. “We need someone with a little range.”

“If no one else is going to try out,” Ginny cut in, “then Dennis is the tallest Keeper we have. Quickness is just as important as reach.”

“I’m extremely quick,” Dennis said before Jimmy could object. “Small is quick.”

Ginny chuckled. “And small is also feisty, like my brothers used to say. Okay, I’ll pencil you in.” She looked around. “I want to get started with tryouts as soon as possible, since we’ll have at least three new players on the team. I’ll see about scheduling the pitch for this Satur—” She paused. “Um, next Saturday. Meanwhile, I’ll keep the sheet up on the board. The more sign-ups we have, the better.”

Ginny felt satisfied, except for the small difficulty she saw coming with her weekends. They could have short practices on weekdays, but they would need weekends for the longer sessions of intricate passing and blocking drills. She would also have to come from Hogsmeade to meet up with the team at the pitch on those days, since she was _not_ going to impinge on the time she and Harry had alone.

She also felt excited. She had never been the Quidditch leader; even when she played Seeker in place of Harry two years ago, it was understood that it was his team, and she was just playing his position. And last year had been a joke, with the Carrows not allowing the teams to have captains, and controlling everything; they had rightly suspected that the Quidditch teams, except for Slytherin, were hotbeds of rebellion, perfect covers for subversive activities. Now she was running the show, and she already had ideas percolating in her mind: tactics, training methods, signals. She suddenly realized that, as much as she loved playing Quidditch with Harry, she also loved the idea of running the team by herself.

It was getting towards dinnertime, and Ginny also had to check some Herbology and Potions books in the library, so she decided to eat early. Leaving through the portrait hole, she heard her name called, and saw Emma and Claire following her. They went down to the Great Hall together. “How was your first day of classes?” she asked.

“Transfiguration was awesome,” said Emma. “I almost changed my matches, but they kept lighting and burning up. Herbology was okay, but some of those plants she talked about were disgusting.”

“I liked Care of Magical Creatures best,” Claire chimed in. “I love Hagrid. He’s funny.”

“He is wonderful,” Ginny agreed.  “So it feels good to be learning magic?”

“Yes!” they sang out together. “There are two Muggle-borns in Hufflepuff, and I think we’ll be friends,” Emma added. “Even thought they’re boys.”

Ginny smiled. “Boys can be okay. I grew up with six brothers. You just have to know how to handle them.”

“Will you teach us?” Claire said, dead serious. “We don’t have any brothers.”

Ginny laughed. “I’ll be happy to talk to you, but you’re on your own when you’re with them. They don’t like it when someone’s analyzing them.”

“What does that mean?” Emma asked.

“Don’t talk about them in front of other people, and that’s all the advice I’m going to give you.”

Ginny looked at the staff table when they entered the Great Hall and saw Professor Pester sitting by himself at the end, his head once again buried in his notebook. The teachers sitting near him—Madam Hooch and Professor Sprout—were engaged in conversation and seemed to be ignoring him. Ginny wondered if he even wanted any friends here.

She ate and spent the next few hours in the library, working on her parchment for Pester and doing research for Potions and Herbology. She went back up to Gryffindor Tower tired from her first day of real studying in six months, flopped down on her bed, pulled the hangings shut—both of her roommates were sitting on their beds chattering loudly about a new liaison between a Hufflepuff fourth-year girl and a Ravenclaw sixth-year boy—and took out her locket; it was dark enough that she didn’t have to cup her hands over the picture to see Harry’s green eyes sparkle and glow. She would be with him in his—their—four-poster in only two more days.

This had been an eventful day, but the thing that stood out in Ginny’s mind was the look in Harry’s eyes when he had turned back to her outside the Room of Requirement. He had been hurt—and very frustrated—but had taken her face in his hands and kissed her. Her heart had utterly melted, and for the rest of the time they were together she would have done anything for him.

She pushed the hangings back and got up, intending to go to the Owlery and send Bailey to him with a letter; at least she could tell him how good she had felt. But as she was slipping her shoes back on, there was scratching at the window, and she saw McPherson perched on the sill, a small bundle tied to his leg and a mouse dangling by its tail from his beak.

Her roommates were staring at the owl and Sarah made a face. “Eww, don’t let that thing in here. It’s got a dead something in its mouth.”

“It’s a mouse, owls eat mice.” Ginny opened the window, but McPherson didn’t come in; he extended his leg and Ginny took the package. “Is that tidbit for Bailey?” she said. The owl puffed his chest and hooted. As he flew off, Ginny called, “Come back later! I’ll have a message for Harry!” Smiling, she closed the window and returned to her bed, ignoring the curious looks of Sarah and Christina as she pulled the hangings shut.

Inside the package was a small box wrapped in pink paper with the Honeydukes label, and inside the box were three Chocoballs. There was also a piece of parchment. Ginny bit into one of the Chocoballs and let the strawberry mousse and clotted cream fill her mouth; she closed her eyes and savored the heavenly taste.

The parchment was a short note from Harry.

 

 

 

 

 

> _Ginny my love,_
> 
> _This is my gift for you tonight, since I can’t be with you. You are the most precious person in the world, and I love you so much I can’t stand it. I will dream of you again tonight._
> 
> _Love, Harry_

Ginny leaned back on her pillow, feeling here, at the end of the day, the same desire to chuck it all and go to Harry as she had had this morning. She reached out of the hangings and took parchment, quill, and ink from her nightstand and wrote.

 

 

 

 

 

> _Beloved,_
> 
> _Chocoballs are my favorite! As I am eating them, I imagine that I am in heaven, but I can never really be in heaven unless I am with you, and that is where I truly am when we are together._
> 
> _Tonight I will love you in my dreams._
> 
> _Your dessert,_
> 
> _Ginny_
> 
> _PS—Don’t forget to find me on your map._

When McPherson returned half an hour later, Ginny gave him the note and went to bed, wishing that Harry was there to comb her hair and kiss her goodnight.


	18. Veela Magic

Harry sat in the love seat in front of a cold fireplace re-reading Ginny’s letter. McPherson had just delivered it, and was now on his perch, preening and cleaning his downy chest feathers. Harry didn’t know why, but his owl looked very pleased with himself.

Despite the open window, the room was permeated with the flowery scent of Ginny’s Bouquedelle. Harry tried not to use it too often, since it sometimes made him yearn for her so much that he couldn’t function. Once, before Ginny had arrived on the Hogwarts Express, Stan had knocked on the flat’s door with business about the inn, right after Harry had received a particularly hot owl from Ginny and had used the Bouquedelle. Stan couldn’t help but notice Harry’s condition; he thought his boss was drunk.

But tonight, Harry had given in when he read Ginny’s salutation: “Your dessert.” He kissed the Bouquedelle, and let the essence of Ginny engulf him.

It wasn’t only the provocative words that drove him to use the heirloom. Harry was feeling very alone, facing another night by himself. He didn’t like it when it was this quiet and he, McPherson, and Winky were the only creatures in the inn. Ginny was in her bed in Gryffindor Tower—the Marauder’s Map lay open on the love seat next to him—but Harry was sitting by himself in front of an unlit fire. The Bouquedelle was the only answer he had.

When the scent finally dissipated, he waved his wand—carefully—and three sticks of wood floated from a bin next to the door and into the fireplace. Another flick and the logs burst into flame. He watched the fire crackle and dance, until Ginny’s red hair started waving and swirling in the flames; he jerked the wand and the fire went out with a loud pop.

He got up and went to McPherson’s perch. The owl stopped preening while Harry stroked his back. “You know what I think? I think you went to see Bailey tonight. I’ll bet you had a date.” He sighed. “Lucky bird.”

He wandered aimlessly around the room, adjusting pictures on the wall, peering at the old photos of his parents and the Order that sat on the mantel, looking into the kitchen for no particular reason. He sat back down in the love seat and tried to read _The Portable Spellery_ which he had ordered that afternoon from Flourish and Blotts, but he put it down after reading the same sentence about micro-weather charms four times.

Staring at the wall, he wondered how he was going to last until Friday evening, let alone until the end of the school year. Now he wasn’t worried just about missing Ginny, but how he would pass the time when he was stuck here by himself week after week. Maybe it would be different after the inn opened, which was happening this Saturday. He could spend his evenings sitting in the dining room, sharing cheer and conversation with Stan and Tony, Ron and Hermione, and all the members of Dumbledore’s Army who had been so enthusiastic about the inn when they helped him meet the train.

Cheered somewhat, Harry lit the fire again, opened his new Charms book, and read for an hour, finally dozing off in the love seat. He awoke when the sun came in the picture window the next morning, feeling stiff and not well rested. McPherson’s perch was empty.

In the Gryffindor girls’ dormitory, Ginny bounced out of bed with a feeling of great anticipation. She had enjoyed all of her classes yesterday, and she was looking forward to more of the same, including double Defense Against the Dark Arts. If nothing else, there was the hope of more entertainment courtesy of Professor Pester’s inability to get the better of Luna; Ginny was sure that a self-important prat like Pester would not be satisfied until he had got the upper hand, and Ginny didn’t think that very likely.

And her dreams had once again been filled with Harry, but this time they didn’t leave her with the almost desperate yearning for him that the dreams of the night before had. This time she felt only a tingly expectation of what would happen when they saw each other again.

She decided to go up to the Owlery before breakfast and send a note to Harry, so after getting dressed she wrote out a quick love letter, telling him what she could remember of her dreams. But then she paused and thought for a moment. Grinning wickedly, she wrote in delicious detail all the different kinds of desserts Harry could expect after their private dinner tomorrow.

Feeling a little more tingly, she took the note to the Owlery. There, perched side by side on a ledge about half way up the wall, were Bailey and McPherson. Bailey’s head was tucked under her wing, while McPherson looked benignly down at Ginny. She laughed with delight.

“You don’t waste any time, do you?” she called. “I have a letter for Harry. Who wants to take it?”

Neither owl moved. After a moment, Bailey lifted her head, stepped sideways towards McPherson and gave him a nudge. He clucked loudly, but after a more insistent head butt from Bailey he flew down to Ginny and extended his leg.

“Thanks for the enthusiasm,” she said. “I guess it is a little early, but this should make my sweetie happy.” He flew out a window, and Ginny went to breakfast.

Emma and Claire had saved her a seat, and as soon as she took it they began pelting her with questions about their upcoming Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

“It’s the most important subject you’ll take,” Ginny told them as she began eating a large stack of waffles drenched in butter and maple syrup.  “You have to study hard, and you have to pay attention. Things out in the world are much better than they used to be, but—”

“You mean Voldemort,” said Emma. “We heard about him, but Harry killed him.”

“Yes, but there are still people out there who think like him. You saw those prats on the train. Why do you think Keesha and I pulled our wands? It wasn’t to tickle them.”

The girls nodded soberly. “Would they have done something to you?” Claire asked.

“Yes, if they thought they could get away with it. They’re bullies and cowards, and if they think you’ll fight back, they’ll probably leave you alone.” She speared a sausage with her fork. “But there are a lot fewer wizards and witches like them than there used to be, and nobody is scared of them like it was before Harry killed Volde—I mean, Riddle.”

“Why do you call him Riddle?” Emma said.

“Because that was his name. He gave himself the name Voldemort because he hated his father and he thought his new name would frighten people.” She smiled. “But we don’t have to worry about him anymore, thanks to Harry.”

The twins nodded, and Claire got a mischievous look. “So, are there really tickling spells?”

Ginny laughed. “There sure are. Do you want me to teach you some? It wouldn’t have anything to do with two certain Hufflepuff boys, would it?” They blushed and started eating.

Soon it was time for the twins’ class, and Ginny went back to her room. She was free until her Charms class at ten o’clock, and was hoping for a reply from Harry. But there was none, so she packed her book bag and went to the library to finish her parchment for Professor Pester.

Back at the inn, Harry was in the dining room when McPherson arrived with Ginny’s letter. He heard the owl hooting and opened the front door; McPherson was perched on the new sign hanging above the doorway. Harriet Smythe had painted a smiling pig with an oversized head, the same picture that the crew meeting the train had worn on their tee shirts. Harry held out his arm and the owl flapped down.

“Thanks,” Harry said as he took the parchment; he raised his arm and McPherson flew back up to the sign, where he flexed his wings and peered down at Harry. “I can’t write an answer right now,” he called to the owl, “so why don’t you wait upstairs. When I’m done with Stan I’ll be up.”

McPherson flew to the open casement window and Harry walked slowly back inside, reading the letter and smiling at Ginny’s description of her dreams. He stopped when he got to her list of “desserts,” and glanced at Stan who was working on a column of numbers on a long parchment, a list of supplies Winky needed for the inn’s first week. Harry jammed the note into his pocket. He would have to wait until he got upstairs to finish it; from the little he had read, it seemed that Ginny’s wonderful imagination had been working overtime.

He managed to concentrate on the task at hand—ordering supplies—for another hour, but the letter was burning a hole in his pocket, so as soon as they had totaled up the last column and Harry had written out the order for Stan to take to the post office, he hurried upstairs.

Ginny had outdone herself in provocation, and Harry wondered where she had got all these spectacular ideas. He wrote a single line in reply: “I’ll lay in a large supply of chocolate syrup,” sealed the parchment, and tied it to McPherson’s leg. “Try to give this to her when she’s alone,” he told the owl. McPherson ducked his head and flew out the window.

Harry leaned on the sill and watched the bird as it became a speck and disappeared into the distance. He could see the Astronomy Tower above the rooftops of Hogsmeade. Over there was Ginny, and over there was the only place, until now, where he had felt at home, even if it was only a bed in a room he shared with four other boys. As much as he was welcome at the Burrow, he was really only a guest there, if a well-loved guest. He looked back into the parlor and wondered if this was now his home. He loved the way Ginny had decorated and furnished it, but he had to admit that it was Ginny that made it feel like a home. Would any place he lived be a home without her?

He looked at the parchment in his hand and couldn’t help smiling. How had he come so far so fast with this bewitching girl? He had never thought that he could be so incandescently happy, that making _her_ happy would be such a consuming passion, a need really. And everything that Ginny did told him that she wanted only the same for him. He read the letter once more with its scandalous suggestions, and laughed. He had never imagined, while out hunting Horcruxes and Hallows, that life could turn so quickly from terror and misery to peace and joy.

Back in the Hogwarts library, Ginny finished her parchment and looked around to see if Luna or Keesha had come. She found them back in a corner also working on Defense Against the Dark Arts. They went up to the classroom together, and by the looks everyone gave Luna, they were all hoping for more entertainment. Luna was completely oblivious, and when Professor Pester walked in he collected their homework, told them to pair up again, and ignored Luna.

Ruth was getting better at non-verbal spells, and Ginny had to concentrate to keep from being disarmed. When an hour was up, Pester made some general remarks about their progress, and immediately launched into the lecture he had begun yesterday on Unforgivable Curses. He never looked at Luna, and she once again sat placidly gazing up at the ceiling.

After about fifteen minutes, Ginny began wondering what the point of the lecture was. Pester was describing Tom Riddle’s use of the Imperius Curse, which everyone already knew about. She glanced at Keesha who rolled her eyes and mouthed, “Boooring.” Ginny nodded in bleary agreement and started drawing little hearts with arrows through them on her parchment.

Pester droned on. By the time the hour was almost over, Ginny was struggling to keep her eyes open, as were most of the class. Only Luna looked wide-awake as she continued to stare at the ceiling, blinking every few minutes.

“So!” Professor Pester picked up a copy of their textbook from his desk and dropped it from about two feet up. Everyone jumped at the loud noise—except Luna—and several students looked around as though they had just awoken.

Pester glared around the room. “Today’s homework is another twelve inches on the topic we’ve been discussing: should Unforgivable Curses be made Traceable? I expect you to use at least two of the cases I mentioned today as support for your arguments.” He gave them his best sardonic smile. “Dismissed.”

“That wasn’t very fair,” Keesha complained as they left the classroom. “How am I supposed to use his examples if I was sound asleep when he gave them?”

“I can help,” said Luna. “I think I was the only one listening, although Tiberius Rookwood was snoring so loudly I had trouble hearing sometimes.”

Keesha took Luna’s arm. “That would be a life-saver. Can we get together after dinner?”

“I loved the way he said _we_ were discussing,” Ginny said. “If that was a discussion then I’m Merlin. He just likes to hear himself talk.” They all chuckled, and agreed to meet in the entrance hall at eight o’clock and find someplace to study together.

Ginny returned to her room and found McPherson perched outside on the gargoyle. She opened the window and took Harry’s message. She laughed when she read it, and quickly wrote out a reply: “Don’t forget the cherries and whipped cream.” McPherson dutifully took it and flew off.

The rest of Ginny’s day was spent in Ancient Runes and Muggle Studies classes. All students were required to take Muggle Studies for the first semester; Headmistress McGonagall was determined that every student should learn about the persecutions that had taken place. The course was being taught by Professor Samantha Sweetwater, a pureblood who had been thrown into Azkaban by the Death Eaters when she refused to renounce her Muggle husband.

Ginny also spent a good amount of time sending and receiving messages from Harry. She enlisted Bailey in the operation, and by late evening, after Ginny had returned from studying with Keesha and Luna, the two owls were flying between Hogwarts and Hogsmeade every fifteen minutes. Harry started making his own suggestions for dessert, and for the other courses too, and Ginny had to closet herself inside her bed hangings to hide her mirth from her roommates; they had become more and more curious about the owl traffic in and out of their room, and some of Harry’s suggestions were making Ginny howl with laughter.

His last message of the night was not another dessert recipe, but another little Honeydukes package with a good night note inside. Ginny sampled one of the toffees and decided to eat only one of the candies every night and save the rest for the next day. She fell asleep with a smile on her face and feelings of anticipation in the rest of her; tomorrow was Friday.

# # # #

Harry slept well that night—in his bed—and as soon as he awoke the next morning he looked at the Marauder’s Map and located Ginny in the common room. She soon left with Dennis Creevey and went to breakfast. Harry went downstairs for his own breakfast, which was waiting on the counter in the kitchen. He greeted Winky, who was bent over with her head in the oven, shifting something around inside.

“What’s in the oven?” Harry asked, sitting on a stool in front of a bowl of cornflakes.

Winky peered back at him. “Winky’s head,” said the elf; Harry laughed. She backed out and straightened. “Winky is cleaning. Winky’s oven must be ready for tomorrow.”

“Right. Our first night. I’m a little nervous”

Winky’s large eyes twinkled. “Harry Potter must not worry. When Winky was at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, she was learning how to make meals for hundreds of students. Besides, she has done something last night which Harry Potter must not be angry about.”

“You did something?” This was an interesting confession; Winky wasn’t exactly a passive creature, but he had never known her to do anything out of the ordinary on her own.

Winky nodded. “Winky is asking Kreacher to come help her.”

“Kreacher? Winky, that’s brilliant. Why didn’t I think of it?”

“Yes, Winky is wondering the same thing. But Harry Potter’s mind is on other things.”

“You’re right.” It was true, and he knew it, and he wasn’t sorry for it; Ginny was usually on his mind. “I’m glad you asked him to come. How would you feel if he stayed here?”

Winky shrugged. “Kreacher is Harry Potter’s house-elf, so Harry Potter can do that.” She smiled. “Kreacher is a nice elf. He treats Winky like his daughter. He helped Winky when she was drinking too much butterbeer.” She filled a bucket with water at the sink, went to the oven, and started cleaning the top burners.

“Why don’t you use magic to do that?” Harry asked. “It would be faster.”

“Sometimes Winky is wanting to do it herself,” was all the elf would say.

Harry took his dishes to the sink and went out into the dining room. Today he would meet Stan at The Three Broomsticks to look at two paintings Harriet had done for him. Before he left, though, he took out his map and looked for Ginny; she was in the library, and he saw Keesha Baker and Luna sitting at a table with her. He tucked the map in his pocket and headed out the door.

He walked down the High Street, waving to people he knew in Honeydukes, Scrivenshaft’s, and the other shops along the way. It was a pleasantly cool morning, slightly overcast. He passed the post office and someone looked at him through a window. He knew who it was, and picked up his pace: he did not want to encounter Turquoise Southeby.

Stan was in the back of the main room talking to Harriet, and Harry could see the two paintings propped against the wall behind the bar. As he walked towards Stan and Harriet, the back door opened and Turquoise entered.

Harry thought it a little strange. She had arrived no more than a few seconds after him, but she was not breathing fast, and did not look as though she had been running. She smiled at him, but he ignored her and joined Stan and Harriet in front of the large paintings. One was a scene of The Hog’s Head itself, viewed from the side but with the new sign visible; the other was a view of Hogsmeade Station and the crowded platform with porters and other witches and wizards standing there; Harry could even see Hagrid back in the shadows.

“These are beautiful, Harriet!” he exclaimed. “They’ll be perfect in the dining room. You’re a genius!”

She turned red. “Oh, they’re nothing really. But I’m glad you like them.”

“I love them.” He stepped back to get a better look and bumped into someone. He turned and saw Turquoise standing inches from him, smiling. “Excuse me,” he said, “I didn’t see you.” He turned back.

She moved to stand next to him. “Oh, Harriet,” she gushed, “how do you do it? I could never be so creative. Don’t you think she’s creative, Harry?”

Harry glanced at her. At least she wasn’t dressed like a whore, probably because she had been at work in the post office when she saw him. But she made up for it with the simpering look on her face and little swaying movements of her hips and shoulders.

He looked at Harriet. “We’ll take them up to the inn now,” he said, ignoring Turquoise. “Do we have something to wrap them in?”

Harriet disappeared into a back room while Harry waited, irritably aware of Southeby only a foot away. He put his hands on the bar and tapped his fingers until Harriet returned with a large cloth. Stan placed the two paintings back-to-back against each other, and Harriet slung the cloth over them. Harry took out his wand and the paintings rose a few feet into the air.

As he directed them towards the door, Turquoise ran ahead. “Let me get the door, Harry.” She held it open while the paintings, Harry, Stan, and Harriet went through. Harry nodded curtly to Turquoise and began walking quickly back up the High Street with the covered paintings floating before him. The door closed, and Harry heard Turquoise following. He gritted his teeth; if she tried to follow them into the inn, he would just tell her to leave. But she turned off at the post office. “Goodbye, Harry!” she called; Harry once again ignored her.

They arrived at the inn and Harry directed the paintings inside. He had already decided where to hang them. The picture of the Hog’s Head would be at the end of the dining room facing the bar, and Hogsmeade Station would hang on the wall opposite the door, so customers could see it as they entered. He had Stan and Harriet hold them and adjust their positions one at a time, and when he was satisfied he applied a sticking charm.

Winky came out of the kitchen and they all admired Harriet’s work, watching people moving about on the platform in the one painting, and going in and out of the inn in the other.

Harriet left, and Harry went upstairs. He sent an owl off to Ginny about the paintings—but not mentioning Turquoise— and he checked the Marauder’s Map. Ginny was in her Potions class—Professor Slughorn was standing next to the desk at the front of the room—and three other girls were at the same table with her: Keesha, Luna, and Ruth Madison, who Harry barely knew. The only other students, sitting at a table next to Ginny’s, were three boys: two Ravenclaws—Salvador Chambers and Hector Freeman—and Jace Kleinhead.

Harry scowled when he saw the Slytherin’s name on the labeled dot. Ginny had told him in one of her letters about her confrontation with him on the train and in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Harry did not like seeing him so near her while they were all handling potentially dangerous potion ingredients. There was nothing he could do, though, so he decided to keep the map out and check it more frequently.

With the map tucked into his belt, he went back to the dining room and helped Stan set places on the tables in preparation for tomorrow’s first public dinner. Harry couldn’t get the hang of magically folding a linen napkin so that it stood up like a tent, so he moved bottles of butterbeer, firewhiskey, and Potio Vitae from the storeroom into their racks under and behind the bar. Every few minutes he checked the map, but nothing had changed.

He was in the storeroom when the class ended and he watched Ginny move out of the dungeon with Luna and Keesha; a few yards behind them came Jace Kleinhead. They passed a corridor that led to the Slytherin common room, and there three more Slytherins joined Jace: Serpens Lestrange, Olbert Schmidt, and Tiberius Rookwood. Harry’s stomach muscles tightened.

The three girls walked on, and when they got to the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room, they paused and Keesha went inside. Ginny and Luna continued down the corridor, apparently unaware of the four boys, who stayed far enough back to remain unnoticed.

Ginny and Luna rounded a corner and the boys stopped. For a moment, as Lestrange and Schmidt turned down a side corridor, Harry thought that they were going to stop following the girls. But suddenly their dots sped up, and Harry saw what they were doing: taking a short cut to the end of the curving corridor down which Ginny and Luna were walking. They were going to surround them in a neat little trap, deep in the cellars of Hogwarts.

Harry ran out of the storeroom, banging against the bar, and tore outside. “‘Arry!” Stan called in astonishment. “What’s wrong?”

Harry didn’t answer; he stood in front of the inn, just outside the door, unsure what to do. He could Apparate to the castle gates, but he would still have to run up the drive, up the steps to the entrance, and descend at least one flight of stairs to the corridor in the cellar. By the time he got there, anything might have happened. He stood stock still for a moment, then drew his wand.

 _”Expecto Patronum!”_ he shouted. His stag burst from the end of the wand, glanced back at him once, then rose like a shot and was gone, a silver streak across the sky.

Stan was standing next to him, watching the Patronus disappear over the rooftops. “Bloody hell! Is that your Patronus?”

Harry nodded; he was breathing hard, even though he had been motionless for a minute. “Something’s happening down in the cellar of the castle. Ginny’s being stalked by four Slytherins.” He started to open the map, but hesitated when Stan looked at it curiously. “It’s an old map of Hogwarts. I’ll be back as soon as—I’ll be back later!” Stan jumped back as Harry Disapparated with a loud crack.

He Apparated in front of the open gates of Hogwarts, and fumbled with the map. It took a moment to find Ginny and Luna, apparently back to back, each facing two Slytherins. With no way of telling whether his stag was there, he crumpled the map in his hand and started running. He was out of breath by the time he got to the castle, and had an agonizing stitch in his side as he plunged down the stairs to the dungeons, jumping down the last five steps. He flew down the corridor trying desperately to remember which turns Ginny and Luna had taken, until he skidded around a corner and came to a sudden halt, his heart pounding and his breath coming in labored gasps.

What he saw almost made him laugh. His stag was standing in the middle of the corridor between Ginny and Luna. Two of the Slytherins lay on the floor in front of Ginny, clearly having been hit with full Body Binding curses. A third, also Bound, was floating in the air a foot above the floor, moving slowly to join the other two. Luna, gesturing with her wand, placed it on the floor next to them; Harry thought she was entirely too gentle. She smiled at him, turned, and began to move the last body.

Harry watched, bent over with his hands on his knees, catching his breath. “Are you all right?” he managed to gasp.

Ginny grinned. “The situation is well in hand. They never stood a chance.” She stepped over Jace Kleinhead and, still holding her wand, put her arms around Harry and looked into his sweaty face. He took a final deep breath and straightened. “It’s all thanks to the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher I ever had.” She glanced at the stag. “And thanks for looking out for us,” she whispered.

Harry pulled her into a kiss, and suddenly did not want to wait until this evening to be alone with her. It felt as though she didn’t, either, but they heard footsteps and voices behind him. Professor McGonagall was hurrying down the corridor with Professor Pester at her side and Professor Slughorn huffing after them. Harry touched the map with his wand, muttered, “Mischief managed,” and jammed it into his pocket.

“What is going on here?” The Headmistress stopped and glared at the four boys piled on the floor; they all looked up, fury, bewilderment, and humiliation in their eyes. “Mr. Potter, that is indubitably your Patronus. What is it doing here?” She fixed an eye on Harry, and he noticed that she, Pester, and Slughorn all had their wands out.

Harry pointed to the bodies on the floor. “They were stalking Ginny and Luna. Two of them came up this way and the other two got behind them. I guess it wasn’t much of a surprise, though.” He and Ginny grinned at each other.

Professor Pester stepped past McGonagall. “Mr. Potter, you didn’t answer the question. Why is your Patronus here?” He tilted his head and raised his eyebrows, but Harry looked at him steadily. Ginny had taken his hand and squeezed it.

“I thought they might need help,” he said. The professor gazed at him without expression, but McGonagall and Slughorn had quizzical looks.

“And how did you know that?” Pester asked.

“I had a feeling.”

Harry looked at the stag and it vanished; Luna blinked and lifted her hand, as though to touch the empty space where it had been. “But you need to ask these chaps a few questions.” He indicated the Slytherins. “They tried to attack two students.”

Professor McGonagall, tight-lipped, pushed in front of Pester. “Thank you, Professor. For the present we will handle this as a school disciplinary issue. If we need further assistance, I will let you know. Professor,” she turned to Slughorn, “I leave it to you to deal with these four.”

She waved her wand and the Bound boys began to move. They slowly stood, but none of them raised his eyes from the floor.

“Let’s go,” Professor Slughorn said roughly, and took Jace Kleinhead’s arm and shoved him down the corridor. He waved the others along with his wand, and they shuffled away. Harry could hear Slughorn muttering under his breath as he kept pushing the four boys along. He watched with the others until they were out of sight.

“Are you two all right?” McGonagall asked Ginny and Luna.

They both nodded. “We heard them coming,” said Ginny. “Two of them were running down this corridor—” she pointed to an opening a few yards from where they were standing “—and then we saw Jace and Tiberius coming behind us. So,” she smiled at Harry, “we just used some of the skills you taught us three years ago. I know we’ve got some practice since, but somehow the way you taught always seemed the best.” She shot a quick glance at Professor Pester as Harry grinned.

“They ran right into our curses,” Luna said. “Still, it was nice to see your stag, Harry. It’s beautiful.” She looked at her wand thoughtfully.

“Miss Lovegood,” the Headmistress said quickly, “if you don’t mind, one Patronus a day is enough. We’ve had enough excitement for a while.”

“That’s a very interesting Patronus you have, Mr. Potter,” Professor Pester said. “Are you sure you don’t want to tell me how you knew where to send it?”

“I told you, I had a feeling,” Harry said evenly. “By the way, Professor, you never answered the owl I sent you three days ago. Someone put another Dark Mark on my inn.”

A puzzled look appeared on Pester’s face. “That’s strange, Potter. Are you sure? I’ve never had an owl not find me. I was right here in the castle on Tuesday, setting up my classroom. Even if the owl first went to the Ministry, it should have known to come here.” He stared at Harry for a moment before abruptly turning on his heel and striding away.

Harry looked from Ginny to Professor McGonagall, who was frowning. She glanced around and lowered her voice. “I’m also wondering, Harry, how you knew what was happening down here, but I don’t mind that you did. However, I would like all of you to keep this incident quiet, and also not to talk to anyone about what Professor Pester just said. Obviously he is here at Hogwarts to do more than teach, but please keep it amongst yourselves. Can you do that?” They all nodded. “Thank you. Well, I can’t see any more use in standing here. Good day.” She turned and walked off down the corridor.

Harry, Ginny, and Luna stood for a moment. Finally Luna spoke. “This is quite interesting. First we get attacked but by people who seem to be pretty stupid about what they’re doing, then Harry’s stag jumps out of the wall, then Professor Pester can’t answer a simple question. I’m beginning to wonder about his competence. He asks some very silly questions in class too.”

“Where were you two going?” Harry asked.

“Keesha told us about a short cut to the library,” Ginny said. “It’s supposed to be along this way.”

Harry turned to Luna. “Can you wait up ahead? Ginny will be right along.”

“Sure.” Luna stared at them for a moment with her large, unblinking eyes before walking off.

Harry waited until Luna was out of sight before kissing Ginny; he held her tightly, and their bodies moved against each other. Finally Ginny gasped.

“Love, I have classes this afternoon, and I need to start a parchment for Potions.”

Harry took a deep breath. “I just wanted to say hello properly. Okay, go do your work, it’ll give us more time over the weekend.”

She rubbed her hands slowly over his chest. “It was wonderful to see your stag. I didn’t mind at all that you sent him.”

“I saw them following you on the map. I knew I couldn’t get here quick enough, and the Patronus was the first thing I thought of.”

“It was perfect.” Ginny kissed him again.

“How about if I meet you in the entrance hall this afternoon? We’ll walk back to the inn together.”

Ginny shook her head. “No, what I want is for you to be waiting for me there. I want to fly to you, and I want you to sweep me off my feet.”

“Oh.” Harry thought for a moment and smiled. “Okay, but don’t be surprised if something happens before, during, and after you’re off your feet.”

“That sounds very romantic.” Ginny kissed him quickly. “Go home and think about it until I get there.” She laughed and pushed him away. “I love you,” she called over her shoulder as she trotted off.

Harry’s eyes stayed riveted on her retreating figure, then he sighed and turned the other way. But as he walked upstairs and through the castle and back to Hogsmeade, he felt light on his feet, and the world seemed lit up in glorious colors. He had been afraid that Ginny would be angry because he had tried to protect her, just as she had been on the beach at Shell Cottage. But her gratitude had made his spirits soar, and doubled his anticipation of tonight and the rest of the weekend.

People in the village smiled at him as he walked up the High Street, and at first he didn’t understand why, until he realized that he had a huge grin on his face. The thought made him laugh, and he didn’t even mind when Turquoise poked her head out the post office door and waved.

Stan had finished setting up the dining room and was sitting at the bar with Tony Trostle. He looked questioningly at Harry. “Is everything okay?”.

Harry nodded. “Four Slytherin prats tried to ambush Ginny and Luna, but their odds weren’t very good. I don’t think they’ll try it again.”

Tony handed Harry a bottle of Potio Vitae. “Don’t they know the war is over and they lost?”

“Some people will never change. But forget about it. Here’s to the inn.” He raised his bottle and Tony clinked his against it; Stan opened a butterbeer and toasted with them.

“This stuff’s not bad,” said Tony. “You’ll sell lots of it.”

Harry chugged his down. “It’s weird, Ginny and Ron don’t like it, but Hermione and I do. Maybe you have to have Muggle grandparents to like it.”

“Maybe. I have a Muggle grandmother. How about you, Stan?”

“Nope, no Muggles as far back as I know. And I don’t like it, either.”

“Maybe we’ll do a study,” Harry mused. “I can ask Hermione, she’d love something like that.”

Tony laughed. “But maybe it’s red hair. Stan’s hair is a little red.” He grinned at Harry. “You can test it on your kids.”

It was almost noon, so Harry, self-conscious at Tony’s joke, went into the kitchen and asked Winky to make lunch for three. A few minutes later she appeared with a tray of cold meats and cheeses, bread, pickles, and apples. Afterwards, Tony and Stan left and Harry went up to the flat.

Bailey was there, sitting on the perch next to McPherson, a note on her leg.

 

 

 

> _My love,_
> 
> _It felt so good when your stag appeared. I wanted to hug it. Instead I’ll hug you. I will leave the castle as soon as my last class is over at 5:00. I’m already packed. I sent an owl to the Ministry, and Wilkie Twycross can give me another Apparition lesson tomorrow, so let’s go into London in the morning. I think I am pretty close to being able to pass the test and get my licence. Once I can Apparate, I can get to the inn much quicker; I thought you’d like that._
> 
> _It’s only a few hours until I see you again, and when I do give you that hug, I’m never letting you go._
> 
> _I love you so much._
> 
> _Ginny_

Harry wrote back:

 

 

 

> _Ginny love,_
> 
> _You drive me crazy with what you write. My stag and everything else I have is for you. I love you so much._
> 
> _Harry_

Harry sent Bailey back with his note, and flopped down on the love seat. It wasn’t even one o’clock yet. He knew he would have to find some way to occupy himself, so he took _The Portable Spellery_ outside and practiced combinations of wand movements with Proeido. After an hour he finally had it tuned so that only writing on the wall would set off his wand.

He looked around, again wondering what to do with himself for three hours.

He went into the kitchen, thinking he might as well talk to Winky about dinner arrangements, but before he could open his mouth the elf stopped him.

“Harry Potter must not worry about dinner,” she said firmly. “He and Ginny Pott— Ginny Weasley will eat upstairs in the parlor, and Winky will serve them from downstairs, just like she used to do at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Harry Potter should not bother poor Winky anymore, or else his dinner will not be ready on time.”

Harry obediently left the kitchen and went into the dining room. Gazing at the table settings, he thought of something he could do. He went out the front door and up the lane to Dervish and Banges. The proprietor, Monitor Twohill, a very nearsighted wizard with a bushy head of white hair and a nervous habit of constantly licking his lips, squinted as Harry entered the shop, and after a moment recognized him.

“Ah, Mr. Potter.” His tongue flitted in and out. “What can I do for you this afternoon?”

“Do you have any veela candelabras?” Harry asked, looking around. “I saw one last summer at Bill’s house, Bill Weasley, I mean. It was very nice.”

“Ah, veela silver is very special indeed. They say it has romantic, perhaps even aphrodisiac qualities. Hmm . . .” He wrinkled his brow and licked his lower lip. “I don’t think I have any candelabras, but let me just look over here . . .”

He came from behind the counter and opened a large cabinet standing against a wall. Inside were several shelves of candlesticks and sconces. He picked up two silver candlesticks and turned to Harry with a smile. “Yes, two veela candlesticks. They were sold to me almost ten years ago by a love-stricken seventh-year who probably stole them from his dear beloved. But the lady in question never returned for them.”

He handed them to Harry. They were very solid and felt warm to the touch, and they shimmered as they caught a beam of sunlight from a window. As he stared at them, Ginny’s face seemed to be looking back at him from the curved surfaces.

He smiled at Mr. Twohill. “I’ll take them, and I need some candles too.”

The proprietor took four candles from a wooden box next to the cabinet, and went back behind the counter. He put the whole order in a cardboard box and secured it with Spellotape. “And you will deposit one hundred thirty-five Galleons in my account at Gringotts?” he said as his tongue flicked several times.

“One hundred thirty-five? Oh.” Harry had not thought about the price, and it seemed a little steep, but he thought about sitting with Ginny at a table with the candlesticks set in the middle, or lying with her in the four-poster as they cast a low glow in the bedroom. “Okay, that’s fine. I’ll send an owl right away.”

The wizard thanked him, and Harry took his purchase back to the flat. After a moment’s thought he took the candlesticks to the bedroom and put one on each nightstand.

He sent McPherson off to Gringotts with his draft and spent the next two hours walking around the flat, trying to read again and, finally, ten minutes after five o’clock, as he looked out the casement window, he saw a small figure running up the High Street, red hair flowing behind her. He raced downstairs and stood outside in front of the door. Ginny came around the corner of the lane, dropped her satchel, and threw herself at him. He caught her and twirled her around like he had done all summer when he came back to the Burrow from Hogsmeade.

He kissed her while her feet were still off the ground, then put her down and they held each other in a crushing embrace. Harry moved his hands well below her back, and she whispered breathlessly, “Upstairs! Dessert first!” He picked up her bag, and they went around to the back door and up to the flat. In seconds there was a trail of clothes into the bedroom and they were in the bed with the hangings pulled closed. The flickering candles made dancing shapes and shadows on the fabric. Veela magic and the soft yellow glow of the flames suffused the room.


	19. Opening Night

They got out of bed late in the evening and found dinner waiting on a small table set up in the parlor. Ginny put on her dressing gown and Harry wore a bathrobe. He brought the candlesticks in and put them on the table, where the candles continued to cast their magical glow. He also lit a fire, and they dined on steamed mussels in a spicy white sauce, whole lobsters—an adventure, since neither of them had eaten one before—linguine in clam sauce, and a crispy green salad. Warm slices of garlic bread kept appearing in a wicker basket as they ate. They drank with caution from a small carafe of wine, remembering the last time they had drunk wine at Shell Cottage. By the time they were finished, they could barely move; they lay down on the rug in front of the fireplace and fell asleep in each other’s arms.

Just before midnight, Ginny awoke and nibbled on Harry’s lips until he opened his eyes. “Hi,” she smiled. “I feel like a midnight stroll. Let’s go down to The Three Broomsticks. I heard there’s always a late crowd on the weekends.”

Harry rolled over and sat up. He looked around and saw that the table was gone. “Efficiency is her middle name,” he said as he stood and pulled Ginny up. “I’d love a midnight stroll. But can it wait?”

“No!” she laughed, extracting his hands from inside her dressing gown where they had strayed. “We have all weekend for that. I want to go have a good time with some people, then come back here and . . .” Her own hands wandered over his robe. “And then sleep late tomorrow.”

She hopped back before Harry could grab her again and ran into the bedroom. She closed the door behind her, giggling while she made Harry promise not to touch her while they were getting dressed. He kept his fingers crossed while he solemnly vowed to keep his hands in his pockets.

“How can you get dressed with your hands in your pockets? And your fingers are crossed,” Ginny said through the closed door.

“Okay, okay, now they’re not crossed. And I’ll just look, I won’t touch, I promise.”

She let him in and made him sit on the bed while she took off her dressing gown and slowly put her clothes on.

Harry leaned back on his elbows and watched the deliberate, reverse striptease. “You are evil. Here I am, the former Chosen One, and this is the thanks I get for saving the world. Do your brothers know that you treat me like this?”

“Merlin, I hope not,” Ginny laughed as she donned her dragon-hide jacket, Charlie’s birthday present. “But they’d probably take your side. They’re all males, after all.”

“And so am I, but I think you know that.” Harry grinned as he dressed, and heaved a loud, dramatic sigh. “I’ll force myself to wait, since you’ve been so nice up until now.”

“So have you.” After a kiss, Harry took her arm and they went downstairs and out the back door. The sky was clear and a full moon was high overhead, lighting up the village. Arm in arm they walked down the High Street to The Three Broomsticks.

The lights inside were blazing, and they could hear laughter and loud voices as they approached. When they entered, Rosmerta came and hugged them both. They saw Stan and Tony, and most of Tony’s crew; everyone called to them and they waved. Harry glanced quickly around and was glad not to see Turquoise Southeby. But to his delight, back in a corner sat Hagrid, several empty tankards in front of him and a broad smile on his face.

“Harry! Ginny!” he boomed. “Come sit! Harriet, two butterbeers!” Harry and Ginny came and sat. Hagrid beamed. “How’s it goin’?”

“Not bad,” Harry answered; he looked at Ginny and grinned. ”Actually, great. It’s hard to see how things could be better.” Ginny leaned over and kissed him softly.

“Aww, sweet! That’s a beautiful jacket, Ginny. Did Charlie get it fer yeh?”

“Yes, it was a birthday present.” She held her arm out and Hagrid rubbed the leather between his fingers.

“I’d say Ridgeback.” He frowned, but quickly laughed. “Yeh don’t think it’s Norberta, do yeh? Charlie wouldn’t do that.” He laughed again and took a drink from his tankard. “Harry, why don’tcha come to one of my classes next week? Remember, yeh promised? Did yeh hear, I’m teachin’ first and second years fer the first time. They’d be tickled if yeh showed up. They’re always talkin’ about yeh, ‘specially them two little twins, what’s their names?” He frowned and swayed slightly in his seat.

“Emma and Claire,” Ginny said. “They’re adorable.”

“Yeah, that’s them. They’re really takin’ to it. They love them little Pygmy Puffs.”

Ginny bounced in her chair. “Is that what you’re teaching? I love them.” She turned to Harry. “Tell me when you go, if I don’t have a class I’ll join you.”

Harry nodded. “When’s that class?” he asked Hagrid.

“Tuesday at eleven, right afore lunch. That’ll be brilliant, Harry.” He drained his mead and started to rise, but Harry put his hand on Hagrid’s massive paw.

“Hagrid, wait, can I ask you something about a teacher?”

Hagrid’s brow creased, but he sat back down. “If it ain’t too confidential, sure. But there’s some stuff I can’t talk about.” His voice dropped to a dramatic whisper. ‘There’s things I can’t discuss. You know, personnel stuff.”

Harry also dropped his voice. “I was wondering if you knew why they hired Professor Pester to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

“Ah, well . . . Harry, that’s one a’ them things. But, seein’ as it affects you direc’ly, you have a right to know.” He leaned toward Harry, and Harry and Ginny leaned in so that their heads almost touched; Hagrid’s breath was pungent with the smell of mead. “They wasn’t gonna have anyone teach Defense Against the Dark Arts at first. McGonagall, Flitwick, an’ Slughorn were gonna split up the job. Seems they couldn’t find anyone to take it, even with Riddle dead an’ that curse gone, you know the one. Everyone who taught it’s been dead or gone after one year.”

Harry and Ginny both nodded. Hagrid grabbed another mug from a tray that Harriet was carrying past, took a large gulp, and leaned his head in again. “But then that Dark Mark showed up on yer inn, an’ McGonagall got worried. She didn’t want to seal up the grounds again, like it was last year, so she asked the Ministry to send someone to take the Defense Against the Dark Arts job, kinda undercover, yeh might say, an’ help keep an eye on things.”

He sat back and frowning, took another drink. “But don’t tell anyone I told yeh, Harry. Or you, Ginny. Someone around here’s up to no good, an’ if they don’t know about Pester, it’ll make it easier to nab ‘em.”

“That’s pretty interesting,” Harry said, looking at Ginny.

She nodded. “And it explains that notebook he’s been studying. He even looks at it in class. He didn’t have a chance to prepare, so he’s teaching it on the fly and doing a poor job of it so far. That’s crummy.” She looked at Harry. “I’ve had lousy teachers in that class almost every year I’ve been here. What I said this morning about you being the best teacher I’ve had is true.” She grinned. “I’ll ask McGonagall to fire Pester and hire you.”

Harry shook his head. “Please, don’t even joke about it. But I wonder what happened to his job in the Auror training program.”

“Ask Ron tomorrow.” Ginny glanced at the clock on the wall over the bar. “Today.”

Hagrid stood. “Well, I’m glad to see yeh, and don’t ferget to come on Tuesday.” He shook his head and smiled as he walked to the door. “Them kids’ll be tickled pink.”

After Hagrid left, Harry and Ginny joined Stan and Tony. They drank butterbeers for another hour, until Harry pressed his leg against Ginny’s under the table, and she broke off her conversation with Tony about Potio Vitae. She turned to Harry. “Love, there’s something I need to do at the inn, so can we go back now?”

Harry grinned, and some of Tony’s crew, who had joined them, chuckled to each other. “If you insist, love,” he said. They made their goodnights and, again arm in arm, walked quickly back to the inn. Upstairs, after leaving another trail of clothes between the door and the bedroom, they made leisurely love and talked, and made love again. They spoke in low voices about school, the inn, themselves.

Harry told Ginny he was worried about being alone during the week, and wondered if he had made a mistake when he bought the inn. Ginny wondered what she would do after leaving school. Harry worried that the Slytherins might seek revenge, but Ginny scoffed at that. She talked about the Quidditch team and told him how Dennis Creevey had pushed his way onto the tryout list. She talked enthusiastically about her classes, except Defense Against the Dark Arts, and they speculated about Morequest Pester and the Dark Marks.

Harry told her how his anger grew whenever anything came between him and what he wanted most: to have a place for themselves. Ginny told him that no matter what happened, she would be with him. The candles finally flickered out and they slept.

They awoke just a few hours later, dressed and ate quickly—breakfast was waiting on the kitchen table—and Disapparated to the back storeroom of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. George greeted them and they went upstairs to the flat. Hermione was at her desk in a small room next to the sitting room, and she went to wake up Ron. He came into the sitting room, yawning and rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“What are you doing here so early,” he grouched. “I just went to bed.”

“That was ten hours ago, Ron,” Hermione said. “It’s ten o’clock. In the morning.”

“Seems like it was ten minutes.” He yawned again. “So what’s happening?”

“Ginny has another Apparition lesson in an hour,” Harry said, “and if she and Twycross think she’s ready, she’ll take her test. Percy’s agreed to be there and fill out all the paperwork.”

“Cool.” Ron yawned once more, stretched, and scratched his stomach. “So,” he said to Ginny, “I heard that Morequest Pester is teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. That must be a real treat.”

She rolled her eyes. “Absolutely, and the best part is that he hasn’t a clue how to deal with Luna. I think she’s driving him nutters.”

Ron laughed. “Good for her. She’s the perfect person to chap his ass. I’ll tell you, no one in the training program misses him.”

“So he’s not doing both jobs?” Harry asked.

“How could he? We have three hours of classes and two hours of practice every day.” Hermione called them into the kitchen and they sat around a small table while she served tea.

Harry looked at her with a smile. “You two are keeping a nice place.”

“Only because I clean up after him. If I didn’t, the whole flat would look like his attic room, and we’d need a bulldozer to walk anywhere.” She smiled at Ron. “I shouldn’t tease. The program is quite rigorous, and he works so hard. It’s wonderful to see you do so well, sweetie.”

Ron grinned at Harry. “It is tough. I still say you should sign up. People talk about you, mate. And it isn’t just because of what you did to Riddle. Seamus and Susan and the Patils and Katie are also there, and they’re always telling everyone how much you taught us.”

Harry glanced at Ginny, and she raised her eyebrows as if to say, “I told you so.”

“Well,” Harry said, “I’m pretty busy with the inn right now, and Ginny is just starting the term—”

“Harry,” Hermione interrupted, “that’s all very well, but . . .” she glanced at Ron, “but there are things happening and, well, people think they still need you.”

Harry scowled. “I need things too. After those people spend seventeen years under a death sentence, then they can tell me they need me. I want to be where I am. Can’t Kingsley take care of business?”

“Good question,” said Ron, taking a biscuit from a tin sitting on the counter behind him; he offered them to Ginny and Harry. “You would not believe how much resistance he gets from all those stupid little bureaucrats. Now I know why Dad’s lost so much hair.”

“But that was actually a blessing when the Death Eaters took over,” Hermione picked up when Ron reached for another biscuit. “Things would have been a lot worse if they had really been able to control the Ministry. There was resistance to them on principle, but a lot of it was the same idiotic inertia that Kingsley is facing.”

“Yeah,” said Ron, “but that’s not all.” He cast a look at Hermione, and she nodded. “Remember I told you a while ago that there were a dozen or so Death Eaters that they couldn’t account for? Well, there are now a few more. There was a breakout from Azkaban about three weeks ago.”

“What!” Ginny and Harry exclaimed at the same time.

“How could that be?” Harry was astounded, and Ginny put her hand on his. “So those Dark Marks could actually be from Death Eaters?”

“Could be,” Ron said.

Ginny looked at him in disbelief. “How did they escape? Why wasn’t there any news about it? That’s criminal! They have to let people know about things like this.” She turned to Harry. “Maybe that’s another reason why McGonagall hired Pester.”

‘Huh?” Ron looked surprised. “What do you mean? He told us he had been hired right after the battle.”

“That sounds like his cover story,” Harry said, and proceeded to tell Ron and Hermione about the conversation with Hagrid. “But I still don’t understand why Kingsley would keep the breakout a secret.”

“He didn’t,” said Ron. “The Office of Magical Law Enforcement did. Somebody got careless and there aren’t any dementors around anymore to do the dirty work. They hushed it up, but someone finally leaked it yesterday.”

“That’s where Percy is working,” Ginny said quietly.

Ron nodded, his lips pressed together. “I haven’t seen him for a couple of days. I don’t know what happened to him.”

They were all silent for a moment. Finally Harry said, “So how many got out and who were they?”

“I don’t know. I couldn’t find out. I think they’re still trying to figure it out. But Gawain Robards was sacked, and Kingsley has taken over that job himself.”

“That poor man,” Hermione said. “Why can’t people see what he’s trying to do and just help him?”

They all looked at Harry, who pushed away from the table. “Come on, Gin, you’ll be late for your lesson.”

They were at the Ministry in a few minutes. Many people were in the Atrium, standing in small groups in animated conversations. Harry and Ginny heard snatches of talk, all about the breakout and the sacking of the Head of the Office of Magical Law Enforcement.

After a brief stop at the fountain to smile at the statues of Emma and Claire, they took a lift to level six and Wilkie Twycross’s office. The ethereal wizard greeted them warmly, and gave Harry his personal thanks for his deeds during the war. While Harry waited in the office, he took Ginny into a room across the hallway, and when they came out an hour later, Ginny was bubbling and Twycross was beaming proudly.

“She’s the best student I ever had,” he said. “A normal course of group lessons is twelve weeks, and of course individual lessons usually go faster. But Miss Weasley is very gifted.” He looked at his watch. “The Test Center is open until two this afternoon, so you have time to see your brother and get a start on the application. I think,” he said knowingly, “they’ll let you take the test even if not all the paperwork is quite ready. Mr. Weasley has a reputation for reliability.”

Ginny thanked him profusely, and left him with a kiss on his cheek that pleased him very much. He shook Harry’s hand and with a wink wished him luck. Outside in the hall, Ginny skipped in a circle around Harry, then took his hands and did a dance with him. “Come, let’s go find Percy. Then we’ll go back to Diagon Alley and celebrate with everyone at the Leaky Cauldron.”

“If Percy is still here,” Harry said.

They rode a lift up to level two, which was crowded with witches and wizards—many with scowls on their faces—hurrying up and down the corridors. Some recognized Harry and nodded to him. Ginny took his hand and they went down several long hallways that became more and more congested and noisy with a sense of crisis and urgency. They finally came to the Head’s office; the large sign over the door read _Office of Magical Law Enforcement_ , but the plaque on the wall was blank.

They could hear loud voices from inside, and dominating them was the deep, booming bass of Kingsley Shacklebolt. They could also hear Saliyah Ushujaa speaking angrily, and also Percy. Ginny squeezed Harry’s hand; he looked at her and saw relief on her face. “He sounds okay,” she whispered.

A witch pushed past them and went inside; they recognized the Auror who had been with Saliyah when she came to the Burrow the day Fenrir Greyback was killed. They followed her in and saw Kingsley pacing behind a desk. Saliyah was seated in front of the desk, and the witch who had just come in was handing her a parchment. Percy, standing next to the desk, was the first to notice them.

“Ginny! Harry! Did you pass your test?”

Kingsley looked up, and Saliyah and the Auror turned. Shacklebolt stared at Harry for a moment, and a sly grin crept onto his face. “Did you come here for the job, Harry?”

Harry looked at him in confusion for a moment, and, as Kingsley burst out laughing, he blushed. “Uh, no sir. We . . . uh . . .” He looked at Ginny for help.

“We’re here to see my brother,” she said quickly. “I’m supposed to take an Apparition test this afternoon. But we can come back later if it’s not a good time.”

Percy looked at his watch, then at Shacklebolt, who nodded. “Why don’t we have lunch now,” the Minister said. “It seems like a good time to take a break. I’ve been up since four, and I never got breakfast.”

“I tried to feed you,” said Saliyah with a shake of her head. “And you’ve been grumpy ever since.”

“I’m grumpy because nine Death Eaters are somewhere on the loose,” he scowled. “But let’s not rehash that.” He waved his wand and a large table appeared at the side of the room. Two house-elves came out a door behind the table, and in a minute lunch was ready.

Harry and Ginny, feeling a little diffident, joined the Minister of Magic and the others, and Saliyah smiled at them warmly. “How are things in Hogsmeade and at Hogwarts?” she asked. “I heard you’re Gryffindor’s Quidditch captain, Ginny. I won’t wish you luck, I still always root for Ravenclaw.”

They made small talk for a few minutes, but Ginny couldn’t contain her curiosity, and in a lull she turned to Percy, who was seated next to her. “What happened?” she said as quietly as she could without seeming surreptitious. “Were you the one who leaked the story?”

Percy glanced at Shacklebolt, who was watching them. “It wasn’t exactly a leak, but yes,” he said firmly. “I didn’t find out about it until Thursday. I went to see Gawain, and at first he denied that anything had happened. But I had completely reliable information from one of the guards. He finally admitted it, and I insisted that we go to the Minister immediately.” He was trying not to sound smug, but Ginny had to smile to herself: he was, after all, Percy.

There was silence at the table as Kingsley looked down at his plate and pushed his food around with his fork. “There were actually ten,” the Minister said to Ginny and Harry. “We’re positive that they left the country, we got a report from a contact in France who saw them. But they could be anywhere in the world by now. We sent messages to every wizarding government, and I’ve spoken to the Muggle Prime Minister.” He looked at Harry. “One of them is an old friend of yours, Dolores Umbridge. Technically, she isn’t a Death Eater, but she did some terrible and brutal things—I think you witnessed some of them. We were holding her with the same level of security as the Death Eaters. At least I thought we were.”

“How did they escape?” Harry said hesitantly, unsure how much he could expect Kingsley to tell him.

“I’m sorry, I can’t say.” Shacklebolt grinned. “Unless you take the job.”

This time Harry laughed. “I think I’d need a little experience first.”

Saliyah leaned forward from across the table. “Then join the training program, Harry. Ron Weasley is doing very well, and a few of your other friends who are also in the program have told us what you did at Hogwarts when Umbridge was there. Harry, we need you.”

Harry felt everyone looking at him, but he felt Ginny’s eyes the most. He looked at her and she smiled, but there was never any doubt in his mind what his answer would be.

“Maybe someday,” he said to Saliyah, “but not right now. I’m sorry, but I wonder if you know what it’s like to have someone as ferocious and powerful as Tom Riddle be after you with nothing on his mind but your own death. I lived with that for seventeen years and I need a break.”

Saliyah sat back, disappointed, but Kingsley nodded. “That’s fine, Harry. You have a right to that, and undoubtedly a need. I only ask that you don’t forget that there will always be a job here if you want it.”

“I know, and I appreciate it, and I won’t forget.”

They finished eating, Percy excused himself, and he took Ginny and Harry back to the Department of Magical Transportation. Ginny passed her Apparition test with flying colors, and a half hour later she walked out of the office clutching a framed Apparition license in her hands. Percy took them back to the Atrium where Ginny bestowed a grateful hug and kiss on him.

Percy shook Harry’s hand as they were departing. “Don’t forget Kingsley’s offer,” he said solemnly. “It’s an honor to be noticed by the Minister and the Head Auror like that.”

“I know. And Percy, thanks for doing what you did, I mean telling the truth. It was a great thing to do.”

Ginny gave him another kiss. “I’ll second that. You did proud by the whole family.”

Percy waved his hand dismissively, but looked pleased. “You two take care, and say hello to everyone at the shop. And don’t worry about the paperwork, Ginny. If you have to sign anything, I’ll owl it to you.” He walked away and Harry and Ginny returned to Diagon Alley.

They met Ron and Hermione in the shop and told them that Percy was fine. Harry was about to add that they had more news about the breakout, but George and Lee came over, so he said nothing. Everyone walked down to the Leaky Cauldron where they celebrated Ginny’s success with a few rounds of butterbeer, and when they were finished Ginny Disapparated back to the shop by herself. She met them at the front door, and Harry gave her a well-deserved snog, to the avid interest of George’s customers inside and a small crowd of onlookers outside.

It was now the middle of the afternoon, and Harry and Ginny had to return to the inn to start preparing for the evening’s festivities. They held hands with their fingers entwined, and for the first time Disapparated together. They appeared in back of the inn, and Ginny went upstairs while Harry made a brief stop in the kitchen and dining room to see how the preparations were coming along. When he got back upstairs he found a trail of clothes leading to the bedroom. He followed —adding to it—and it was only an hour before the opening that they came back downstairs.

Stan, Winky, and Kreacher—who had arrived earlier in the afternoon from Grimmauld Place—were all busy with last-minute things to do, but they were all relieved to see Harry. Stan had been worried because of Winky’s reproachful attitude, and Harry felt guilty. He gave Ginny a penitent glance and set to work helping Stan and Kreacher in the dining room and behind the bar; he was afraid to venture into the kitchen and face Winky’s displeasure.

At five forty-five he noticed that Ginny had disappeared; Kreacher told him she had gone back upstairs, and Harry was somewhat annoyed that she had not stayed with him. He was becoming increasingly nervous, and kept up an agitated pacing between the front door and the bar. But at five minutes to six, the kitchen door opened and Ginny came through wearing the dress she had worn on her birthday, the one that had won the admiration of Aunt Muriel for it’s daring neck- and hemlines. But what made Harry’s—and Stan’s—breath catch was the veela necklace with the solitaire diamond lying on her chest above her plunging neckline. She looked so beautiful and desirable that Harry was afraid for a moment that he would lose all control.

He put his hand on the bar to steady himself. “Ginny,” he said in an unsteady voice, “you are . . . I mean, you are . . . you are—” She put her hand on the diamond, and, with her eyes ablaze, walked towards him. She seemed to glow, just as the candles in the veela candlesticks had, with a magical radiance.

At that moment the clock behind the bar struck six, and a steady string of loud pops sounded from just outside the door, accompanied by shouts of greeting and voices calling from the lane near the High Street. Harry took a final look at Ginny, together with a deep breath, and opened the front door.

There stood Ron and Hermione, Bill and Fleur, George and Lee—each with a young witch on his arm—Percy, Neville and Keesha, Luna and Dean, Dennis Creevey—Harry wondered how he had snuck out of school—and a dozen others, mostly members of Dumbledore’s Army.

More people were streaming down the lane: Rosmerta, Tony with a witch Harry assumed was his wife, a few other shopkeepers and residents of Hogsmeade, Hagrid but thankfully not Grawp, Professors Flitwick, Sprout, and Slughorn, and Madam Hooch.

The dining room was soon full, and Stan got busy serving drinks and taking orders from Kreacher; the elf was constantly running between the kitchen, the bar, and the tables. Harry and Ginny stood together by the bar, but Ginny was the center of everyone’s attention. She cast a glow of beauty over the entire room; Harry himself couldn’t take his eyes from her, and was barely aware of Ron sitting on a stool on his other side, chatting with Stan and throwing down firewhiskeys. Fleur got up from the table where she was sitting with the rest of the Weasleys, and spoke to Harry as she also admired Ginny.

“You know, ‘Arry, I said to Ginny at ‘er party zat when she put on ze necklace she became veela, and I ‘ave never seen zat before. I do not understand it, I ‘ave to admit.”

Harry took a breath. “I guess I know how Bill feels now. Thank you for giving it to her. It’s . . . it’s . . .” He struggled for a word. “It’s indescribable.”

Ginny was talking to Professor Slughorn, but she turned to Harry and Fleur. “I love it, and,” she grinned at Harry, “I love the way you look at me.”

Fleur nodded knowingly. “‘Zat is ‘ow it is supposed to work. It is all about love.” She kissed Harry’s cheek, hugged Ginny, and smiled at Slughorn, who turned a light shade of pink and followed her with his eyes as she returned to her table.

The Professor cleared his throat. “Well, Harry, my boy, you have done a top notch job here, and with Miss Weasley at your side you make a remarkable impression, the two of you. Don’t be a stranger at the castle, and do stop by and see me whenever you’re there.” He gave Ginny another appreciative glance and joined the other Hogwarts professors at their table.

Ron had been listening, and leaned toward them. “Two veelas in the family? Mum’s gonna have kittens.”

Harry laughed. “Where are your folks, anyway? I was hoping to see them.”

“They’ll be along. Mum’s really anxious to see the place, especially the kitchen.”

“She’d better stay out of Winky’s way,” Ginny said. “That elf won’t stand for anyone to butt in.”

“That’ll be interesting to see.” Ron set down his shot glass and looked around; Hermione was watching from the Weasley table and gave him a little wave of her hand. “That’s all for me, it’s butterbeer for the rest of the night. The place is brilliant, mate.”

Harry and Ginny spent the next hour visiting tables, chatting with their friends and family, enjoying the congratulations that everyone offered. Kreacher and Stan bustled back and forth, serving drinks and food. Molly and Arthur finally arrived, late because Molly had spent so much time on a cake she had baked for the inn.

Dumbledore’s Army were sitting at three tables they had pushed together in a corner, and when Harry and Ginny got to them they all stopped talking, and Harry noticed that the rest of the room had also fallen silent. Hermione, Ron, George, and Lee came to the table and Lee cleared his throat as the others took seats. Harry had been leaning over, talking to Neville about Keesha and Ginny’s encounter on the train with the Slytherin boys, when Ginny tapped his shoulder. He straightened and saw Lee holding two polished wooden tablets, each with a brass plate attached.

Lee nodded to Harry before turning and facing the silent dining room. He waited a few dramatic seconds, and spoke.

“Almost three years ago a small group of Hogwarts students met in this very room and formed an organization. At that time the place was a dump—no offense to those of us who wasted many a Hogsmeade weekend in it, savoring its unsavoriness. But we didn’t care. Something bad had happened at Hogwarts, and one of those students, Hermione Granger, had one of her many brilliant ideas. She asked Harry Potter to lead a rebellion against the people who wanted to disarm us and leave us defenseless against the evil that was about to come.

“At first Harry didn’t want to take up the mantle; he had never asked for it. But he decided to do it, and because of what he and the rest of us did as a result of that meeting, a lot of people are now not living in terror, not in jail, not dead. During that meeting, a certain fourth-year, red-haired girl suggested that we call our new group Dumbledore’s Army.” He nodded to Ginny and continued.

“Tonight we’re celebrating a new venture for Harry—”

“And for Ginny,” Harry called.

Lee grinned. “And for Ginny, because we know who is Harry’s inspiration.” Harry put his arm around her waist as Lee went on. “Well, here we are, having a grand time at Harry’s expense.” Everyone laughed, and several people called out, “Thanks, Harry!” and “Hear! Hear!”

Lee held up his hand. “As I was saying, here we are, and it’s not just because of Harry’s deciding to turn The Hog’s Head into this wonderful place. It’s also because he and a bunch of teenage rebels decided to stand and fight. So, Harry, on behalf of Dumbledore’s Army and everyone else in this room, and especially for two who lost their lives—” his voice caught, and for a moment he couldn’t speak; Molly Weasley and a few others wiped their eyes “— who lost their lives fighting for life and for freedom, I present to you, and to all of us, these two plaques. They’ll make sure that everyone who comes here never forgets what happened here.”

He handed them to Harry, who read them silently; Ginny peered over his shoulder. “Read them out loud,” she murmured.

He held up the first one. “It says, ‘In this room on October 5, 1995, the movement known as Dumbledore’s Army was founded by a group of Hogwarts students as an act of rebellion against tyranny. The inspiration for the D.A. came from Hermione Granger. The leadership was provided by Harry Potter. The name was given by Ginny Weasley. The fighting was done by everyone.’ And then it has a list of everyone’s name.”

He handed the plaque to Neville; he pointed out his name to Keesha and passed it on to Dean, and to the rest.

Harry cleared his throat. “The second plaque is a memorial. ‘In honor of the two members of Dumbledore’s Army who gave their lives in the fight for life and freedom.’ And then it says,” he paused and blinked, and Ginny put her hand on his back. “It says, ‘Fred Weasley, 1978 - 1998' and ‘Colin Creevey, 1981 - 1998'.”

In the silence that was broken only by the quiet sobs of Dennis Creevey, he handed the plaques back to Lee. Lee pointed to a spot on the wall behind the tables where the present members of Dumbledore’s Army were sitting, and Harry nodded. Lee took his wand from his pocket, and in a moment the plaques were affixed to the wall.

After a few more moments of silence, George Weasley stood. “Come on, people,” he said loudly, “Fred would be disgusted with this. It’s a party, not a funeral.” As everyone cheered, he walked over and clapped Dennis on the back. “Dennis, I know you didn’t sneak out of Hogwarts just to sit here and bawl. Colin is out there with Fred, and as long as you’re like this, he’s having a better time than you are.”

Susan Bones pushed a bottle of Potio Vitae in front of Dennis. “Thanks,” he said. “I’ll try to remember that.” He took a swig and looked at the label on the bottle. “Good stuff.”

The party went on. Harry spent most of his time at the DA table, trading stories about Dolores Umbridge and Cornelius Fudge. He was glad to notice that Cho and Michael Corner were having a good time together, and once, when he caught Ginny also looking at them, he smiled and she turned to him with the identical smile.

Ginny was sitting with her family, and most of the men in the room seemed to find an excuse, at one time or another, to visit that table. Harry was bedazzled when he saw Ginny and Fleur together; the veela necklace gave Ginny the same radiance that Fleur carried naturally, but he didn’t care how she came by it. Her beauty had grown to an almost unbearable level.

The hour grew late, and people started leaving. The Hogwarts teachers left first, except for Hagrid who was sitting with Tony and some other Hogsmeade people, regaling them with tales about all the nefarious characters he had met in the old Hogs Head. Molly Weasley tried unsuccessfully to find out from Ginny when she would be getting back to her dorm room that night, but Arthur finally pulled her away, and they could be heard arguing outside until they Disapparated.

Michael and Cho left together early, as did Bill and Fleur after Fleur kissed Harry and Ginny goodbye, and by midnight everyone was gone except Ron and Hermione. The four plus Stan sat together at a table; they had all helped Kreacher and Winky clean up, even while Kreacher complained non-stop about wizards who didn’t know where anything was supposed to be put away, and Winky’s similar grumbling whenever anyone had the temerity to step into the kitchen.

“Do you think we can go into Diagon Alley tomorrow morning for a couple of hours?” Ginny asked; she was holding Harry’s hands in hers, more to keep his off herself than anything else. “Hermione wants to show me that new dress shop.”

“Don’t you have homework?”

“I can do it in the afternoon, and I’ll also have some time when I get back to school.”

Harry yawned. “Sure, why not? Is that okay?” he said to Stan. “If we get there around ten, we can get back here by one or two in the afternoon.”

“Sure,” Stan nodded. “We’ll just be serving sandwiches. Take your time, ‘Arry, it’ll be fine.”

“Okay.” Harry frowned for a moment and looked at Ginny. “What about that, um, what Percy told us. We haven’t talked about it yet.”

Stan got to his feet. “I’ll just see what Kreacher needs doing in the kitchen. See you all tomorrow.”

As soon as he was gone Harry told Ron and Hermione about their luncheon in the Ministry that afternoon. “It’s getting late, so maybe we can talk about it at your place tomorrow. If those Death Eaters are all out of the country, though, I don’t see how they can be connected to the Dark Marks here in Hogsmeade.”

“I’m not sure,” Hermione said. “But that’s a lot to think about.” She poked her finger into Ron's side. “Come on, Ronnie, time for a little snuggly. Did you know your brother was ticklish?” She grinned at Ginny.

Ginny laughed. “It’s a well known family secret. I’m glad to see you’ve discovered it.”

“It wasn’t hard.”

“Okay, okay.” Ron took Hermione’s hand. “Knock it off, Ginny, or I’ll tell Harry about some of your own little secrets.”

“He already knows all of them.” Ginny stuck her tongue out at him.

They all walked to the front door, and Harry and Ginny watched as their friends Disapparated. They looked up at the sky; it had clouded over, and it was starting to feel a little cool. They put their arms around each other and Ginny sighed. ”That was a good party. I’m really glad you did this. Everybody had a great time.”

Harry lifted up the veela necklace. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are? You made Fleur look like an old hag.”

“Oh, Harry,” Ginny giggled, “that’s sweet, but it’s not true. No one can make Fleur look less beautiful than she is.”

“So she’s not Phlegm anymore?”

“No, I was bitchy then. Well, maybe she was a little stuck up too. But I really like her, and I think she likes me. She loves you.”

“She loves all of us.” Harry put the necklace slowly back on her skin and ran his finger over it. “I think that when she talks about love, it isn’t just man-woman love. She’s talking about the kind of thing that Dumbledore used to harangue me about.”

They heard the kitchen door open in the dining room and Stan came out. “I’m off,” he announced. “You two ‘ave a good time in Diagon Alley tomorrow.”

Harry waved to him as he walked up the lane and turned onto the High Street. “And we need to be getting to bed too.” He smiled at Ginny, and she batted her eyes.

“Sleepy?” she asked.

“Maybe. Let’s go find out.”

Winky was snoring inside her cupboard, but there was no sign of Kreacher—Harry supposed he had found his own place to sleep—and they went upstairs. Harry lit the two remaining candles, and when he had put the second candlestick on his nightstand and turned around, Ginny was standing on the other side of the bed wearing nothing but the Veela necklace.

“Sleepy?” she repeated.

Harry could not speak. After staring at her for several moments with his breaths growing shorter and shorter, she took pity on him and pulled the covers back. They fell into bed, and as they made love, the veela necklace that lay between their bodies seemed to bind them together with a magical force. They slept entwined, and the sun was well up when they awoke.

Ron and Hermione were already up when Harry and Ginny arrived at their flat. They talked over tea about the escaped Death Eaters and the new situation in the Ministry.

“They were spotted in France, for God’s sake,” Ron declared. “How could they be in Hogsmeade and France at the same time? They’re too far apart to Apparate, and the Ministry would have known if they used a Portkey. There’s no way any of them could have put up those Dark Marks or killed the weasel.”

Hermione frowned. “But if not them, then who? Two Dark Marks, the dead weasel, those Imperiused men, Turquoise Southeby’s behavior, those Slytherin prats . . . It just seems like a lot of things are going on up there.”

“You can’t lump the Slytherins in with the Dark Marks,” said Harry. “They’re just a pack of gits. One of them’s a Lestrange, another one’s a Rookwood. Doesn’t that say it all?”

“I agree with Harry,” Ginny said. “Kleinhead is just a bully. He’s too stupid to plan something as complicated as finding two homeless wizards—or one wizard and a Squib—Imperiusing them, and killing a weasel just to spook Ron and me. What they did in the cellars was pathetic. I think that either Luna or I could have handled them alone.”

Hermione shrugged. “I can’t explain a lot of it, I admit, but it’s all too coincidental. I still think someone is out to get Harry.”

Harry huffed a breath. “They wouldn’t be the first. So far it’s just been annoying. Except,” he added quickly as Ginny raised her eyebrows, “for what the Slytherins tried to do. But that’s actually a clue that they didn’t have anything to do with the Dark Marks. You’re right, Gin.”

“And that proves how stupid they are,” Ginny smirked.

“Okay, so we know squat about what’s happening in Hogsmeade,” Ron said, “but what about the Ministry? I guess Percy is in for a nice promotion.”

“And he deserves it,” declared Ginny. “He did the right thing, even though his boss was the one who was screwing up.”

They talked around the Ministry’s problems for a few more minutes, but only Hermione thought there was a connection to what was happening in Hogsmeade. Finally she stood. “We just don’t have enough information, so,” she grinned at Ginny, “let’s go shopping.” Harry and Ron decided to stay in the flat, and Ginny and Hermione left.

Diagon Alley was crowded; the weather was cool and it looked like it might rain later in the day, so people were taking advantage of a few clear hours. Ginny and Hermione had to push through the throngs, but were in no hurry. They window-shopped along the way, looking into a jewelry shop and a few shoe stores. The dress shop was past Gringotts. They stood outside for a few minutes looking at the displays before going in.

The owner was a tall, elegant witch with a graceful way of moving. She turned out to be an old friend of Molly’s, and was also the designer of most of the dresses and robes in her store. She and Ginny got into a discussion about some of the newer styles that witches were now wearing. Hermione was at the front of the store browsing a rack of winter robes, when she heard, “Miss Weasley, are you all right?” She turned to see Ginny leaning on a counter, staring at the door with an alarmed expression.

“Ginny, what is it?” she cried, and rushed over to her.

“Harry,” said Ginny, and pushed past Hermione. “Something’s happened. We have to get back to the inn.”

“But what . . . how do you know?”

Ginny was already out the door trying to move through the crowd when Hermione caught her. “Ginny! Wait! What are you doing?”

Ginny stopped and looked at her, wide-eyed. “I don’t know how I know, but I know. I don’t think he’s in danger, or Ron, but something happened and he wants me.”

She began forcing her way past people who were stopped at a vendor’s cart; they sent annoyed looks at her and Hermione, and a few yelled at them. When they were in sight of the Wheezes, they saw Harry and Ron standing in the doorway, looking over the crowd. Ginny jumped and waved, and Harry spotted her and waved back; he watched anxiously until Ginny and Hermione were there, and pulled them into the shop.

Ginny could hear a low humming sound, and Harry held up his wand. “Something set off the spell. The inn was attacked again. We have to get back.”


	20. Repel and Warn

Harry and Ginny were the first to Apparate into the field behind the inn, but a quick succession of pops followed as Ron, Hermione, George, and Lee Apparated. Harry and Ginny ran hand-in-hand towards the inn, and saw in dismay a large Dark Mark leering at them from the back wall. But Ginny suddenly gasped and almost stumbled; Harry pulled her up and followed her finger pointing at the roof line. “No!” he screamed. “God damn them!”

The middle chimney was gone. A few bricks lay on the ground next to the back door, but there had to be a larger pile of rubble on the other side.

“God, I hope no one was hurt,” Ginny said almost as a moan. Everyone stopped and stood a few feet from the building looking up at the wall and the roof.

The back door burst open and Stan came out, his face white, holding his wand.

“‘Arry, thank Merlin you’re back. They ‘it the inn back ‘ere, then they went around front, but someone saw them and they Disapparated. It was just a couple of minutes ago.”

Harry raced through the inn, pulling Ginny after him. The front door was open, and the dozen people standing just outside moved aside when they saw him. He stepped past them and swore again. A large pile of bricks, stones, and chimney pipes lay in a heap next to the front wall.

He walked over to it, feeling a lump form in his throat. He looked at Ginny and saw his own anger and fear mirrored in her face. As Hermione and Ron appeared from the dining room, Harry looked up at the sloped roof and saw what was left of the chimney. Somehow the crashing debris had missed the sign; the smiling pig gazed down on them unscathed.

“George and Lee stayed out back,” Ron said. “I told them to wait there, just in case.”

Before Harry could respond, he heard a familiar voice call his name. He turned and saw Luna walking with Keesha towards them from the High Street; both of them had their wands out.

“Hi, Harry,” Luna said matter-of-factly. “I think I winged one, but they got away. There were three. It was such an elegant chimney too. Maybe you can repair it.”

“Luna!” Harry cried. “What are you doing here?” Everything was becoming confused, he couldn’t think straight.

“Oh, we finished our homework and decided to pay you a visit. And here we are.” Luna smiled. “Hi, Ginny, it’s too bad to see you like this, but all things considered, it was lucky we got here when we did. I think they were going to do more damage.”

Harry was finding it difficult to keep from screaming at Luna’s maddening calmness. “Who? Who were they? Did you see their faces? Luna!” His nose was inches from her smile, and he felt a tug on his arm as Ginny pulled him back.

“Keesha,” Ron said calmly, “what exactly did you see?”

Keesha took a breath. “We had just turned off the High Street and we heard an explosion, and then the chimney came down. I thought at first it had just collapsed, but then we saw three people run around this side. One of them pointed his wand at the roof, but Luna shot a Stunning Spell, and they Disapparated.”

“Excuse me,” said another familiar voice; everyone turned to see Turquoise Southeby standing a few yards away in the open field next to the inn; somehow, no one had noticed her. Harry’s jaw clamped shut, and he could feel Ginny’s grip on his arm tighten. He glanced at her; she was glaring at Southeby and her wand was pointing half-way between the ground and the blond witch.

“What?” said Harry curtly, feeling another surge of anger rising in his craw; he partly raised his own wand, hoping it would give her an inkling of his state of mind.

“Oh, Harry, please,” she laughed and gestured at their wands. “I just wanted to say that I saw those people too and there were only two of them.”

“No!” exclaimed Keesha. “There were three. I saw them.”

Harry stared at Southeby, unable to fathom what she wanted or what she was talking about. He turned to the people standing nearby who had been in the inn; a few of the wizards were eyeing Turquoise, whose bodice was tight and low-cut. “Did anyone see who did this? Or how many there were?”

They all shook their heads. Luna turned and fixed a steady gaze at Turquoise, who lost her smile. “You are mistaken,” Luna said. “How could there be only two when I saw three?”

“Well, I’m not . . . I mean, I did see them. I was right up there in the post office.”

“On Sunday?” Luna’s eyebrows arched.

The silence was suddenly broken by a loud crack, and Morequest Pester Apparated directly in front of Luna. She jumped back, startled, but quickly gave him her most serene smile.

“Hello, Professor,” she said in a tone as close to sarcasm as anyone present had ever heard from her, “we need some defenses against the Dark Arts.”

Pester’s appearance snapped Harry out of the fog that had enveloped his brain. He yanked his arm from Ginny’s hand and pointed his finger at the Professor.

“Well look who’s here. How nice of you to show up,” he snarled. “A little late again, though, aren’t you? Did the owl get lost this time, or was your head stuck in your lesson plan? Got to keep one jump ahead of the class, don’t you. Or maybe your head was stuck up someplace else.”

A few of the patrons sniggered, Turquoise giggled, and Hermione gasped. Pester’s face darkened. He started to speak but closed his mouth and looked at the pile of rubble and the roof.

“You’re upset, Potter,” he said quietly. “But you should watch what you say, it could get you in trouble.”

Harry pointed to the roof. “I’m already in trouble. A man’s supposed to be able to live his life in peace, especially after he—” He stopped and looked at Ginny; she took his hand, which was in the middle of a gesture at Pester, and laced her fingers through his.

Harry turned to Pester. “Just do your job,” he said tersely, and walked a few yards away, shaking with anger. Ginny came with him and they both stood silently.

Everyone looked up the lane at Tony Trostle and his foreman Carlos, running towards them. “Harry!” Tony shouted, “I heard the explosion, but I didn’t think—Merlin, what did they do?” He looked at the pile of bricks, and up at the roof and swore. “Was anyone hurt? Did anyone see them?”

“No one was hurt,” Harry answered, “and Luna and Keesha saw them. There were three.”

“No, no, Harry, there were only two,” Turquoise said. She moved closer to him, smiled, and took a deep breath; her bosom rose and fell.

Ginny had had enough. Ignoring everyone and everything, she stepped in front of Harry and poked her finger hard against the witch’s collarbone. Turquoise stepped back; she was several inches taller than Ginny but seemed to shrink as Ginny spoke.

“Listen, Southeby, I don’t care what you saw and I don’t care what you wear or don’t wear. You mind your own fucking business, understand?” She brought her wand up between them and fixed Turquoise with a glare beyond blazing.

Turquoise stepped back again, but incongruously smiled, then turned wordlessly and walked away, swaying her hips. Ginny pointed her wand at her back, but at that instant Hermione pushed the wand down. “No,” she whispered, “she’s only trouble.”

Ginny glared at Hermione, but put her wand away, and Harry put his hand on her shoulder. Turquoise stopped and stood next to Pester.

“Well, Weasley,” said the Professor, smiling slightly at Ron, “do you remember anything from your training?”

An hour later, Harry and Ginny were sitting at a table in the dining room, not speaking. Harry played with a fork and kept his eyes down; Ginny watched him with her lips pressed into a thin line. Ron and Hermione were at the same table, morosely looking at each other and the other two. Behind the bar, Stan silently wiped the counter over and over. Kreacher sat on the floor next to the kitchen door with his back against the wall; his ancient, wrinkled face was blank as he stared into space.

There were no customers in the dining room. George and Lee had returned to Diagon Alley after Harry told them there was no point in standing watch behind the building any longer. The only sounds were the voices of Tony and his crew foreman, discussing in Spanish how to repair the chimney.

Morequest Pester had questioned Luna, Keesha, Turquoise, and a few of the customers who had been in the inn. No one had seen or heard anything until the explosion and the crash of the chimney on the roof; everyone had ducked under tables when the avalanche of debris came down. Some of them said they heard a scream just as the culprits were Disapparating, but not everyone had. Turquoise insisted that there were only two attackers; she said she saw them run in front of the building, and saw the spell that Luna had shot at them; it had missed, she said.

Luna didn’t say much after Pester had arrived, except to answer his questions; she just stared serenely at him until he seemed to become annoyed and asked what her problem was. She smiled and told him there were no more problems, since she had finished her homework.

Keesha was positive that she had seen three attackers. She became angry at Turquoise who told her she didn’t know what she was talking about. Pester had to step between them and asked Southeby to wait back at the post office so he could talk to her again later.

Keesha and Luna left, and Pester walked around the inn and stared at the Dark Mark. He gestured at it with his wand to no effect. He also went inside, looked into all the storerooms and cupboards, and said that he wanted to see the flat. Harry refused, and Pester stared at him for a few moments before turning and, without a word, walking across the field to the post office.

Now Ginny, Hermione, and Ron sat unhappily in the dining room, waiting for Harry to speak or do something. But it was Tony who broke the silence. He came inside, his face grim.

“I can’t repair it magically,” he said. “Whatever they hit it with put some kind of jinx on it and we can’t get rid of it. We’ll have to rebuild.”

Harry stood and strode to the door, pulling out his wand as he walked outside; everyone followed. He pointed his wand at the rubble. ” _Reparo,”_ he said in a low voice. Some of the bricks moved slightly and Tony’s eyebrows went up.

Harry glared at the debris and flicked his wand. _”Reparo!”_ he shouted, and everyone jumped back as bricks, stones, shingles, and pipes suddenly soared up to the roof in a cloud of dust. In five seconds the intact chimney was back in place.

“How in the hell did you do that?” Tony muttered, almost to himself. He looked at Harry’s wand. “How did you do that?”

Harry’s smile was tight-lipped and brief. “My wand broke last year, but I repaired it and for some reason it got stronger.” He put it back inside his belt and avoided looking at anyone.

“What about the Dark Mark?” Ginny said.

“Oh, yeah, that.” Harry gave her the same mirthless smile. “Might as well get rid of it. Or maybe not. Maybe if I leave it they’ll leave me alone.” His voice was bitter.

“Harry.” Ginny reached for his hand; he let her take it and looked at her in misery and frustration. Ginny felt a stab in her heart; it had been a long time since she had seen that look. “Come.” She put her hand on his chest, knowing how much he liked that. She glanced at Ron, and he led the way around back. Ginny held Harry’s hand tightly, and gradually he returned the pressure.

The awful mark covered about twenty feet of the wall and extended almost to the second story. The skull seemed to mock them, and the serpent it was vomiting was almost too realistic with its mouth gaping and its fangs extended. Ron pointed his wand and tried a simple Scourgify, an Erasing spell, and a few variations he had learned in the training program. Nothing worked. Hermione, Ginny, and Tony all tried, unsuccessfully. Finally they looked at Harry. He was glaring at the Mark.

“Your Reparo worked brilliantly,” Ginny said. “Ron, what was that last spell you tried? I thought the Mark faded a little.”

“Yeah, I thought so too. Depero. It’s a little like Evanesco, but it’s supposed to be stronger. You have to give your wand kind of a stuttering movement.” He showed the motion to Harry, who looked at him dubiously.

‘I never even heard of it. Show it again.”

Ron repeated the motion and stood back as Harry faced the wall.

 _”Depero!”_ he said loudly; the Mark faded perceptibly and everyone cheered, but it came back as clear as before. Harry looked at Ron, his brow furrowed.

“You stuttered the wand twice. You have to do it at least three times.” Ron held Harry’s hand and showed him.

Harry pointed his wand. ” _Depero!”_ The Mark disappeared, and everyone cheered again. Harry clapped Ron on his back. “Nice spell, mate. You’ll have to teach me some more of those.”

Ron looked proud. “Maybe I should break my wand and get it fixed by—ouch!” He grabbed his shin where Hermione had kicked it and started hopping in place.

“Come on,” Harry said before Tony could ask questions, “I’m hungry.”

Winky served sandwiches, and Stan put out bottles of butterbeer and Potio Vitae. Tony told Harry he was going to organize a village watch to keep an eye on things. “After everything you’ve done for us, it’s the least we can do for you. No!” he put his hand up to stop Harry’s protest. “It’s true, and it’s also good for business. If this keeps up, people will start to be frightened again. When the Death Eaters took over the village last spring, no one went anywhere or spent any money. It was a disaster. I will not let that happen again.”

“Well, thanks, Tony,” Harry mumbled. “I really appreciate it.”

“So now what?” asked Ron after Tony and Carlos left; he finished off a butterbeer and set the bottle down. “Do you want us to stay? I don’t have to be at the Ministry until tomorrow morning.” He looked at Hermione, and she frowned.

“I was supposed to go back to the Institute for a few hours, but I can owl Madam Geneva. This is more important.”

Harry looked gratefully at his friends. “I really think it’ll be okay. I’ll put wards on the building tonight. I don’t know what I can do in the long run, though, except find out who’s doing it.”

“I was thinking about that,” Hermione said. “I thought it was very interesting that Turquoise Southeby was in the post office, just when they attacked. She never answered Luna’s question about why she was there on a Sunday.”

Ginny scowled fiercely. “If that bitch had anything to do with it, I’ll give her bat bogeys in places she never even knew existed.”

They all laughed, and Harry leaned over and kissed her. “That would be a treat. I agree with Luna and you,” he said to Hermione. “I don’t’ trust her.”

“Well, there’s something else,” Hermione said. “When you sent the owl to Pester last week, was she at the post office?”

“Of course she was! That explains why he never got it.”

“I didn’t know you could sabotage owls,” Ron said skeptically. “I never heard of it. You can intercept them, even kill them, but if you give an owl directions, it will follow them no matter what someone else tells it. I’m sure of that.”

“Why are you so sure?” Hermione said. “And maybe she told someone else about it, and they intercepted it somehow.”

“I guess,” Ron said reluctantly. “But that would be tampering with the post. Very un-British, if you ask me.” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“You have to admit, though, she’s a prime suspect,” Harry said to Ron.

“Well, she does act bloody weird sometimes, but maybe she’s just nutters.”

The afternoon passed, but no customers came. A few people wandered down the lane to look up at the roof and stare at the wall in back, but they all left.

Harry became more and more glum; he sat at the table and glanced at the door whenever anyone appeared out front, but when they went away he slumped lower in his chair and the look on his face became darker. Ron and Hermione talked quietly to each other, but Ginny watched Harry and became more anxious as he became more gloomy.

Winky brought in a large tureen of thick vegetable soup and a large loaf of sourdough bread. Kreacher dished out bowls to each of them, and both elves returned to the kitchen. Harry ate only a few spoonfuls and a small piece of bread, then sat back again and stared at the table with his arms folded.

Ron finished his bowl of soup and tore off half the loaf and started on it. “So, what about those wards, mate? If you want to use them, I’ll give you a hand, but we’ll have to leave if we’re going back to Diagon Alley tonight.”

Harry glanced at Ginny. “Everyone will have to leave, Stan and . . . you have to get back to school, Gin. You said you have homework.”

Ginny shook her head. “I’m staying. I can do it tomorrow morning.”

A look of utter relief spread over Harry’s face. “Are you sure? Won’t you get in trouble.”

“I don’t care. Besides, the worst they can do is give me detention.”  She smiled. “I decided a while ago. I should have told you, I’m sorry.”

Harry’s eyes brimmed, and he blinked rapidly. “Thanks.” His voice faltered. He looked at Ron. “Let’s do it now.”

Stan closed up the bar, closed the shutters, and said goodnight. The four said goodbye to each other and Ron and Hermione stepped outside. Ron and Harry put the warding spells on the building, and Ron and Hermione Disapparated back to London.

“Well, that’s that,” Harry said as they stood by themselves in the stillness and the dim light of a few candles. Harry put them out and felt his way to Ginny and embraced her; he held her close, but not tightly. She raised her head and he kissed her gently; she lay her head on his chest and Harry stroked her hair, saying nothing, and after a moment Ginny felt his tears on her forehead. She looked up.

“It’s going to be okay,” she whispered and wiped the wetness from his face. “We’re safe. No one can touch the inn now.”

“Ginny, I feel like you’re the only thing I have in the world.” Harry’s voice shook. “I know Ron and Hermione will always be there, but they have their own lives now. They always came when I needed them, but I can’t ask them to be that way anymore. If I didn’t have you, I don’t know what I would do.”

“And I will always be here. I told you that last night.”

Harry was silent. “I know you mean that,” he said after a moment, “but tomorrow night I’ll be alone, and I hate that. It’s not your fault, I chose to buy the inn and to be here.” He wiped his face with his sleeve and sniffled. “This is stupid. I really don’t need you to be here all the time.” Ginny could just make out the tiny twitch of his smile in the gloom. “Well, actually I do,” he admitted, “but I know you can’t.”

She put her hands on his chest. “That’s how I feel. I want to be here but I can’t.”

There was a long pause. Ginny put her arms around him again and this time they held each other tightly. The room was completely dark.

Ginny sensed a change in Harry’s mood, and he began to speak hesitantly, haltingly. “Maybe we can, you know . . . sometime . . . maybe after school is out . . . get . . . you know . . .”

“Married?”

“Well, yeah, that’s what I was thinking.”

“That won’t make a difference now, Harry. I’ll still have to live in the dorm.”

“I know, but . . .” He suddenly let her go and groped for a chair. He lit his wand and sat; Ginny came to the table and sat across from him. Harry tapped the base of his wand on the tabletop and the tip flared. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry, Ginny. I love you, but that wasn’t the right thing to say, at least not now.”

“I love you, too. I did like the question,” she grinned, “so save it for later, okay?”

He finally smiled. “Sure.”

“Let’s go upstairs.”

Ginny came and pulled him out of his chair. They went through the kitchen and heard both Kreacher and Winky snoring from cupboards on opposite sides of the room. Up in the flat, Harry lit a fire and they sat in the love seat, staring at the flames, holding hands, hearing nothing but the occasional flutter of McPherson stretching his wings. Ginny moved closer to Harry and climbed into his lap. After a few minutes of heavy snogging, Harry picked her up and carried her into the bedroom.

The next morning after breakfast Harry removed the warding spells from the inn, and decided to go back to Hogwarts with Ginny and talk to Professor Flitwick again about protective spells. They walked through Hogsmeade and up the drive to the castle. They kissed goodbye at the portrait hole and Harry went around to the Professor’s office, but Flitwick was not there. He borrowed a quill and a piece of parchment from a passing student and wrote out a message and shoved it under the door. He thought for a moment, and, with a smile and a glance in the direction of Gryffindor Tower, headed downstairs to the library to see what he could learn on his own about protective magic.

When Ginny came through the portrait hole into the common room, Ritchie Coote, one of the Gryffindor prefects, was waiting for her with a note from Argus Filch, countersigned by Professor McGonagall, informing her that any more late weekend returns would cost her a detention. As soon as Ritchie turned his back she balled it up and threw it into the fireplace.

She hurried upstairs to her room to dump her dirty clothes and pick up a few books and rolls of parchment. Sarah and Christina both stared at her, but didn’t dare ask any questions, and Ginny went back downstairs and headed for the library.

She spotted Harry as soon as she got there, and plunked her book bag on the table in front of him. He looked up, startled, but returned her grin. “I thought you’d be coming down here,” he said. “Have a seat.”

“What are you doing here?” she asked in a low voice. “I thought you were seeing Flitwick.”

“He wasn’t there. I decided to do some research on my own. See?” He held up a thick, well-worn copy of _Perlman’s Passive and Protective Charms._

Ginny smiled and sat next to him with a quick kiss. They held hands as they studied, even after Madam Pince passed behind them and cleared her throat loudly. They glanced around and she stood for a moment glaring at them, but when they both smiled back she hmmphed and strode away.

Ginny left Harry in the library at ten o’clock for her first class, Transfiguration. Professor McGonagall looked at her for a moment when she came in, but said nothing. Ginny took a seat next to Keesha.

“Are you okay?” Keesha asked. “Did you come back last night?”

Ginny shook her head. “Harry was in pretty bad shape, I couldn’t leave him. He’s better now, but I don’t know what he’s going to do about the inn.”

“If you ask me he should hex that bitch. I guarantee you she’s at the bottom of it.”

“I’m not sure about that,” Luna said from behind; she had just come in the classroom and sat next to Ginny. “But there is something wrong with her. I never saw anyone behave so dreadfully.”

“Whatever is wrong with her can be cured by large quantities of strategically applied Bulbadox powder,” Keesha said. Luna was about to respond when Professor McGonagall called their attention. For the rest of the hour they were busy trying to Transfigure a photograph of a cat into a real one using non-verbal incantations, and they had no time to discuss Turquoise Southeby.

Ginny went back to the library after class, but Harry was gone. She worked on a Muggle Studies parchment, and at noon went to lunch. She entered the Great Hall, saw Emma and Claire waving at her, and sat across from them. “Hi, girls, how was your weekend?”

“Excellent,” said Emma. “We were down by the lake and saw the Giant Squid!”

“Always a treat,” Ginny grinned. “I think I’ve only seen it three or four times.”

“How is Harry?” asked Claire, and for a moment Ginny wasn’t sure what to say.

“Well,” she replied slowly, “he’s okay now, but yesterday someone drew a Dark Mark on his inn again and they also knocked over the chimney. But he fixed that, and got rid of the Dark Mark. He was pretty upset, though.”

“It couldn’t have been those Slytherin prats,” Emma declared. “They had detention all weekend. Everyone heard how you petrified them, Ginny.”

“I didn’t petrify them,” Ginny said with a small frown, remembering the trail of Basilisk victims. “I don’t even know how to do that. I used Petrificus totalus. That’s a body binding spell. It just sounds like petrifying.”

The twins nodded and Ginny began eating, but just then Jimmy Peakes sat down next to her

 “Hey, Jimmy,” she greeted him, “did anyone else sign up? I didn’t get a chance to check the list this morning.”

He looked at her a little askance. “You didn’t come back last night, did you?” When Ginny ignored the question he went on. “So when will you reschedule the tryouts?”

“What do you mean?” Ginny put down her fork; it was still holding several chunks of baked macaroni. “Why do I have to reschedule? I already reserved the pitch for Saturday morning.”

“McGonagall announced a memorial service for Saturday morning. Attendance is required. The pitch is still free in the afternoon, though.”

Ginny swore and slammed her fist on the table; the twins exchanged glances, and Jimmy moved away a few inches. “Well, I may have to postpone the tryouts,” she scowled at him. “My weekends are . . . busy.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be captain, if Quidditch isn’t that important to you. It’s important to a lot of other people.”

Ginny glowered at her plate, then at Jimmy. “We’ll have the tryouts Saturday afternoon. All right?” He nodded and turned to his food, ignoring Ginny for the rest of the meal.

Ginny also ate in silence, not looking up from her plate. She could tell that the twins were watching her, and after a few mouthfuls of macaroni and cheese she smiled at them.

“Harry told Hagrid that he’d come to your Care of Magical Creatures class tomorrow. We heard you were studying Pygmy Puffs. Do you like them?”

The girls nodded enthusiastically.  “We sent an owl to our parents asking if we could get some as pets,” said Emma. “We know exactly how to feed them and take care of them now. Our mum and dad don’t know much about magical creatures, though. We wanted to buy an owl when we were in Diagon Alley, but they said the cat would eat it. Or was it that it would eat the cat?”

Her humor partially restored, Ginny spent the rest of the meal discussing Pygmy Puffs with Emma and Claire. The girls left for their next class, and Ginny left for Defense Against the Dark Arts. But by the time she got to the classroom she was again in a foul mood, for several reasons. She did not want to see Pester; she was afraid that Keesha and Luna would start talking about Turquoise Southeby again; and she now had to face the prospect of telling Harry that her entire Saturday was tied up. He probably would want to go with her to the memorial service, but he would also want her to be at the inn for the rest of the day. So did she, but she didn’t know now how it was going to work out.

Jimmy Peakes’ retort had stung. _She_ had been appointed captain; it was her team. She was certain that Jimmy coveted the job; he was a good but not great Quidditch player, and there was no guarantee that he would make the team, unless he was captain.

She was one of the first to arrive in the classroom, and sat at an empty desk near the back. Keesha and Luna soon joined her, but no one talked about Turquoise. Luna just smiled, and Keesha only asked Ginny if she had finished her homework. When Pester entered he walked quickly to the front and told them to practice non-verbal spells again. Ginny and Ruth Madison both did well, and the Professor did not speak to them.

The Slytherin boys were also in class, sitting right behind Ginny, but Jace Kleinhead studiously avoided looking at her. Pester ended the practice session, and launched into another lecture about Unforgivable Curses, but this time he used examples from his own experience as an Auror, and Ginny actually found it interesting. He talked about a case from his first year as a professional Auror in which two witches had taken turns Imperiusing the same wizard because he had proposed marriage to both of them. But the case had ended tragically when he finally married one and the jilted witch, in a fit of hysteria, killed him and his bride with Avada Kedavras.

“She only omitted the Cruciatus from her list of crimes,” he concluded, “and she languishes in Azkaban to this day. These types of domestic disputes, if that’s what this was, rarely end with an Unforgivable Curse being used, but it does happen.”

The three girls went down to their Potions class together. “Pester is a strange duck,” said Keesha. “He certainly knows his subject, but he’s so full of himself that he gets in his own way.”

“I hope he talked to Miss Southeby,” Luna said. “She’s at least as full of herself as he is.”

Ginny kept her mouth tightly shut. This was a topic she did not want to discuss, and she was also wondering what their Potions class would be like, with herself, Jace, and Professor Slughorn together in the same room. And she was still worrying how Harry would react when she told him about Saturday.

Potions was uneventful as far as any problem with Jace was concerned—Professor Slughorn spent a good part of the hour in back, directly behind the table where Jace was sitting. But Ginny’s concerns about Harry and Quidditch distracted her; her Oblivious Unction came out of her cauldron a sickening shade of puce instead of milky blue, and she had to throw it all away at the end of the class. Jace smirked and she glared back. Slughorn followed the boy out of the dungeon, but Ginny went directly upstairs with Luna and didn’t see where those two went. She headed to Madam Hooch’s office and reserved the Quidditch pitch for Saturday afternoon, then went on up to Gryffindor Tower.

Back in her room she composed a love note to Harry but didn’t say anything about the memorial service or the change in Quidditch plans; she wanted to tell him in person when they met at Hagrid’s class tomorrow. Bailey flew off with the note, while Ginny went back down to the common room to see what the tryout sheet looked like.

There were only two more sign-ups, but neither was for Keeper. Now she was starting to worry about that too; Dennis’s enthusiastic aggressiveness would only take him and the team so far. Ron’s attitude had been similar to Dennis’s—at least when he wasn’t vomiting—but Ron had a height advantage. He was at least eight inches taller, and his arms were very long. She sighed; maybe the team’s experience at the Beater position could make up for Dennis’s deficiencies.

The twins came down and Ginny went with them to dinner. They had just had another Transfiguration class, and were full of bubbly exuberance about matchsticks and pins. Jimmy didn’t bother her at dinner, and after a few hours studying in the library with Luna and Keesha, she went back to her room.

Bailey was there with a hot reply from Harry. Ginny sent one back, asking when he would be looking at her on the Marauder’s Map. She became drowsy while awaiting his reply, so she sat in a chair by the window, and it was both Bailey and McPherson who woke her up; Bailey tapped on the glass while McPherson perched on the gargoyle. Ginny took the note without opening it—she wanted to read it in bed with her hangings closed—and the birds reversed their positions, McPherson giving her another small package from Honeydukes with more Chocoballs. Ginny ate one, put the others on her dresser, and got into bed; she closed the hangings and read Harry’s letter.

 

 

 

> _My Beautiful Ginny,_
> 
> _Enjoy the Chocoballs; I had one myself just to remind me of how sweet your kisses are, and how I can’t get enough of them. I heard that there will be a memorial service at the castle on Saturday morning, and I thought that afterward we could go back to London with Ron and Hermione and do some sightseeing, just like Muggles. They say that London is a great place for tourists. Or, if you want, we could go someplace else, like the village we used to visit near Shell Cottage._
> 
> _It doesn’t matter to me where we go. I love you so much that the only thing that matters is being with you._
> 
> _I will be looking at the map as soon as I send the owls off. I’ll probably fall asleep with it on the pillow next to me, where you should be but aren’t._
> 
> _I will see you tomorrow at Hagrid’s class. I really like Emma and Claire._
> 
> _Love, Harry_

“Damn,” Ginny swore to herself; she did not want this to happen, she did not want to have to choose between Harry and Quidditch. Maybe there was some way to combine them; maybe she could convince him to come to the tryouts. But when she considered that option, she knew it would not work. She would be too conscious of his presence, and he would be a distraction to the others. The only thing she could do was postpone the tryouts for another week.

But the more she thought, the less she liked it. She shouldn’t have to make that choice, Harry should understand. And maybe he would; maybe she was making too much of it. And she could make it up to him in the evening.

That thought made her wiggle her toes, and she closed her eyes and smiled to herself. She remembered that Harry was looking at the map, and moved her legs and feet about under the covers. A warm feeling engulfed her and she knew Harry had seen her and was thinking about her—and she was pretty sure what the details of those thoughts were. She turned on her side and was asleep in a few minutes.

#  #  # #

Harry was waiting for Ginny in the entrance hall at eleven o’clock the next morning, and they went out into an overcast, slightly muggy late summer morning, to walk down to Hagrid’s class. Harry was in a buoyant mood, and he took Ginny’s hand and swung it back and forth as they walked.

“I got a new spell from _Perlman’s Charms_ , and Professor Flitwick helped me refine it. It’s called Anapido. It sends whatever you throw at it back at you.” He laughed. “I tossed a rock at the wall after I put the spell up, and it came back and almost cracked my skull. Winky and Kreacher were watching and I thought she would die laughing. Then I tried a blasting spell on the rain gutter and I almost got hit when _that_ flew back. Ginny, we may have found the answer. Now I’ve got Proeido to warn and Anapido to repel. Flitwick said that if someone is really persistent, they could penetrate it, but it would take time, and it would set the Proeido off. Isn’t that brilliant?” He took her other hand and whirled her around as she shrieked with laughter.

“It’s brilliant!” Ginny was delighted, but when her head stopped spinning she felt a pang, hoping what she was going to tell him about Saturday afternoon wouldn’t burst his bubble. She decided to wait until after Hagrid’s class to break the news.

When they reached the gamekeeper’s cabin, the Gryffindor and Slytherin first years were gathered around two tables outside the door. Ginny noticed that the three Slytherins who had been Sorted first—Abigail Abernathy, Sean Allen, and Zoroaster Black—were at the table with the Gryffindors, making it more crowded. There were about two dozen Pygmy Puffs sitting on the tables, raising quite a racket with their loud chirps; they were a variety of shades of purple and pink. Hagrid was walking around the tables, talking to the students who were feeding and watering the little creatures.

“Now don’t force ‘em to drink too fast,” he was saying. “It’ll just come out the other end, and they won’t be too perticuler about where they do it or who they do it on.” There was a burst of giggling, and Emma looked up and waved to the visitors. Hagrid turned and beamed. “Hey, everyone! Didn’t I tell yeh that Harry Potter would be comin’ to see us? And here’s Ginny Weasley too.”

Everyone turned. The Gryffindors cheered and swarmed around Harry and Ginny, but most of the Slytherins held back, uncertain. Emma and Claire pushed to the front of the crowd, gleeful smiles on their faces.

“Okay, okay, quiet yerselves down!” Hagrid boomed. “Now, Harry, would yeh mind tellin’ the kids about some of the magical creatures yeh learned about here.” He winked at him. “Maybe some a’ the friendlier ones.”

“Sure.” Harry smiled and turned to the students. “The best magical creature I ever met is right over there.” He pointed to the large enclosure down towards the Forbidden Forest. “He’s a hippogriff named Buckbeak. He saved my life a couple of times, and he fought during the battle last spring. You have to be very respectful of him, though. He’s very proud.”

“‘That’s right,” Hagrid said. “Yeh’ll be learnin’ about him in yer third year. Ginny, what about you, what was yer favorite magical creature?”

“Unicorns, no doubt. They’re so pure and beautiful. I love Pygmy Puffs too, especially to cuddle.” She took a Puff that Claire handed her and stroked it. “I used to own one named Arnold.” She grinned and some of the students laughed.

“Is everyone enjoying the class?” Harry asked. “How about you?” he said to the lanky, dark-haired Slytherin boy, who was watching him closely. “What’s your name?”

“Zoroaster Black,” the boy said into the sudden silence.

Harry stared at him. “Are . . . were you related to Sirius Black?”

“He was my second cousin. I never knew him, though, and my parents never talked about him.”

“He was my godfather,” said Harry. “Did you know that?”

The boy nodded. “I’m sorry he was killed.”

Hagrid cleared his throat. “Well, that’s nice, Zoro. Okay, everyone back to what yeh were doin’.”

Ginny and Harry wandered around the tables for a while, and even the Slytherins warmed up and chatted with them. Harry kept looking at Zoroaster, and finally Ginny said, “He does look a little like Sirius, doesn’t he?”

“He does.”

When the class ended, Emma and Claire walked back to the castle with Harry and Ginny. They talked about the Pygmy Puffs, and asked about unicorns and hippogriffs, but when they got to the front steps Ginny stopped. “Why don’t you two go on up?” she said to the twins. “I’ll meet you in the Great Hall.”

“I’ll be there, too,” Harry called as they disappeared into the entrance hall. He turned to Ginny. “What’s up? Did you like the Chocoballs? I told the people at Honeydukes to keep a good supply on hand. I’ll be buying a lot of them.” He took Ginny’s hands and grinned at her.

Ginny didn’t smile. She had decided just to say it.

“Something’s come up on Saturday afternoon. I have to hold the Quidditch tryouts then. I won’t be able to spend the afternoon with you. I’m sorry, I didn’t want to do it, but everyone wants the tryouts this weekend. There’s a lot of interest in the team, and . . .”

“That’s fine. I’ll come down to the pitch and watch. That’ll be fun.”

Ginny took a breath. “Harry, I’m not sure that’s a good idea. It’ll be kind of, you know, distracting. Listen,” she added hastily when Harry’s face took on a puzzled frown, “it’s only for this weekend. I had it scheduled for the morning, but then this memorial service came up, so . . . so I had to reschedule. I’ll go right to the inn from the pitch. We can go into London for the evening, how does that sound?”

Harry shrugged. “Okay, I guess. But I don’t see why it would be distracting for me to be at the tryouts. Maybe I could even help out.”

Ginny looked down, then off into the distance towards the lake; she felt like she was walking on eggshells, and didn’t like it. She turned back to him,

“Harry, love, I’ll feel funny if you’re there. Don’t you see? If I do something that someone doesn’t like, they’ll look at you and think, maybe even say, that Ginny’s an idiot and Harry Potter wouldn’t have done it that way. I dearly want you to come to the matches, and I might even ask your advice about some things, but I just won’t feel right about it if you’re at the tryouts.”

“Oh. Yeah, I can see that. Okay.”

“Are you sure?” Ginny peered at him carefully; he didn’t look sure, in fact he looked a little angry. “I can understand if you’re upset, but it’s important to me.”

He swallowed. “Yeah, it’s okay. I know how important it is. And I know how hard it is to be a captain. I’m just disappointed that I won’t see you until the evening. I guess we’ll have to make up the time somehow.” He drew close to her; their hands, which were still clasped, pressed into their thighs and Harry did a bit of massaging. Ginny closed her eyes and sighed.

“Dammit, Harry, how can I eat lunch now? You’re getting me hot and bothered. Oops.” She opened her eyes and looked at a group of students returning from the greenhouses; they had passed within a yard or two as she was speaking, and some of them laughed and whispered to each other. Harry glared at them, but Ginny turned pink. “I need to remember where I am when you do things like that. Come on, let’s eat lunch.”

They followed the students inside. Ginny was relieved that the conversation had gone the way it had, but when she glanced at Harry she saw a small crease on his forehead. She didn’t sense any darkness in his mood, but some of the upbeat feeling that had been there an hour ago was gone.


	21. A Chat With Bill

The rest of Harry’s week was quiet. Nothing happened to the inn, either because of the new spells or simply because whoever was behind the attacks was lying low. Customers gradually returned—many of them urged on by Tony— and by Friday evening there was a nice crowd having a good time in the dining room.

But Harry was uneasy, although as the days passed uneventfully he became more confident that his combination of spells would do the trick. Perhaps he was nervous because the attackers were still out there, probably watching him, maybe waiting for the right moment when his guard was down. But as he thought about it, he found himself hoping that they _would_ come out into the open and reveal themselves. If they did, if it came to a duel, it would be the end of whoever was causing his problems.

There was one unpleasant event on Tuesday evening when Turquoise Southeby came to dinner with one of the young wizards Harry had seen with her at The Three Broomsticks. Harry sipped Potio Vitae and watched them from the bar until Turquoise started casting blatantly suggestive glances at him and Harry left the dining room, telling Kreacher to let him know when she was gone.

That bit of overt offensiveness contributed to a feeling of disgruntlement—Harry didn’t like being chased from his own dining room by a tart who wouldn’t leave him alone—but something more serious was making him irritable and uneasy: he harbored a sour feeling about the Quidditch tryouts.

He reluctantly accepted Ginny’s desire to have him stay away, but it irritated him. He had tried to hide it, but he knew she sensed it. Even though it meant only a single weekend afternoon stolen from Ginny, his loneliness during the week made him long for her company even more, along with the comfort—not to mention the pleasure—it brought. He knew he was being unreasonable, but he couldn’t help his feelings.

He only used the Bouquedelle once, on Tuesday night. He didn’t sleep well afterward, awakening from dreams about Ginny and reaching for her in the bed. He was tempted to use it again the following night, but realized that if he used it out of desperation it would drive him crazy. He had to husband the magic, not because he would use it up, but because of its effect on him. He knew that there would be times when he would need it to strengthen himself when Ginny was really absent or far away; he didn’t want it to become an addiction feeding his moments of weakness.

The Marauder’s Map was different; it was a game they both enjoyed. Once, she put her trainers on her hands and walked around her room on both her hands and feet while her roommates gawked. She finally collapsed on the floor in hysterical laughter. That happened on Tuesday night, and on Wednesday morning she sent Harry a note asking if he had noticed anything different. He wrote back that he had been startled to see two dots on the map with her name next to them; he didn’t know what to make of it, and was glad to learn he was not going nutters.

She put the shoes on her hands again that night and asked Christina to pick up her legs and move her around the room like a wheelbarrow. This time Harry wrote that the map showed her dot moving around with Christina’s. Ginny concluded from all this that the map’s magic worked by detecting something touching the floor inside the castle, and she proposed, in her next owl, that she and Harry co-author a learned paper for the _Annals and Proceedings of the Wizengamot_.  Since the map was supposed to be a secret, Harry declined.

He enjoyed this playfulness, but it also drove home that Ginny was _there_ , and he was _here_ , and he was alone.

On Thursday morning Ginny owled him saying she wanted him to meet her at the castle after her last class on Friday and walk back to Hogsmeade with her. Harry’s spirits rose, but he still couldn’t shake the mood of unhappiness that dogged him and sometimes made him react testily to Stan or Winky. He thought hard, but couldn’t figure it out. It wasn’t Turquoise—even though she had come back Wednesday evening, she had not been so obnoxiously whorish, and Harry was pretty sure she would leave him alone when Ginny was around, now that Ginny had confronted her; and it wasn’t the inn—business was picking up and he felt more comfortable every passing day about the double spells that protected the building.

He needed someone to talk to, someone to answer the question which he could not seem to find the answer to: why did he have these depressing feelings when everything he had ever wanted was now his? He was free from the pain in his scar and the presence of Riddle in his mind, free from the burden of the Prophecy. He had the girl of his dreams who loved him and willingly shared his bed. He had good friends who would do anything for him, and he was surrounded at the inn and in Hogsmeade by grateful people and creatures.

These thoughts went through Harry’s mind on Thursday as he stood in front of the fireplace in the flat, holding Ginny’s message about Friday afternoon. He had just sent Bailey back with an enthusiastic reply, when his arm accidentally knocked over the photograph of his parents that stood on the mantel. He picked it up and thought for a moment as he looked at their faces, then put it back and went into the bedroom, got out another piece of parchment and a quill, and sent McPherson off to Gringotts. By the middle of the afternoon, Bill had replied, telling Harry to meet him at Shell Cottage.

An hour later Harry Apparated into the back yard of the little house by the sea. He spent a few minutes standing at Dobby’s grave before walking around to the front and looking out over the ocean, feeling the salt breeze in his face and remembering the walks on the beach that he and Ginny used to take. He turned when Fleur opened the door. She gave Harry a dazzling smile that immediately dispelled his lingering bad mood.

“‘Arry! Bill sent a message zat you would be ‘ere! ‘Ow good to see you. Is everyt’ing okay?”

“Hi, Fleur,” he smiled back. “Everything’s fine. I just wanted to talk to Bill about a few things.”

She moved aside to let him in. “I am so glad you t’ought of zat, to talk to Bill. ‘E loves you and Ginny so much. I’m sorry zat zere are problems.”

Harry suddenly felt embarrassed, and wondered how Fleur knew why he wanted to talk to Bill. “It’s nothing, really. We had some good talks last summer, so . . .”

Fleur smiled again, but said nothing and led him into the kitchen. She put out a  kettle, cups, and croissants, and they drank tea at the small table and talked about last Saturday’s party and the news that Molly Weasley was working part-time at St. Mungo’s as Hestia Derwent’s assistant. Fleur didn’t mention Harry’s “problem,” and after an hour Harry realized that he was laughing and feeling better than he had all week, aside from the moments when he was reading Ginny’s letters.

Bill arrived in the late afternoon. He kissed Fleur, greeted Harry, and went upstairs. In a few minutes he was back wearing jeans and a tee shirt, and he and Harry sat down in the parlor.

“So what’s up?” Bill asked. “Are you and Ginny okay? Are there still problems at the inn? I heard all about the Dark Mark and the chimney from George, but Ron told me that you repaired it.”

“Yeah, it’s fixed. I also learned a new protective spell, and I think it’ll be safe, at least for a while.”

“That’s good. So why did you want to see me?”

Harry’s hands fidgeted in his lap, then gripped the arms of his chair. “Sometimes I think I’m going crazy,” he said as he looked into the cold fireplace.

“What makes you think that?” Bill said quietly.

“I don’t know. On the surface, everything is great. It’s just that, if I have everything I always wanted, why am I miserable whenever I’m alone? My scar never hurts, I’m not looking over my shoulder for Riddle’s Killing Curse, I have Ginny . . .” He looked quickly at Bill, who just smiled. “Sometimes . . . sometimes when I think about Ginny, I feel like . . . like she’s a goddess and all I want to do is make her happy. She makes _me_ so happy.” Again he glanced at Bill. “But when we’re not together, and I’m doing stuff at the inn or just sitting around up in my flat, things . . . gnaw at me. I can’t figure it out.”

“What things?”

“I don’t know!” Harry hit the arm of his chair with his fist and glared at the fireplace, then sighed and looked at Bill. “Can you be in love with someone, but your feelings about them change all the time?” He looked back into the fireplace. “There are times when I don’t feel like she’s a goddess, but I don’t stop loving her. Maybe it’s loving her in a different way. I don’t know.” His fingers were twisting in his lap again, and he kept his gaze on the hearth.

Bill shifted in his chair. “I think that’s exactly what it is,” he said. “Love changes. It doesn’t go away, but the more you get to know someone, the more ways there are to love them. Ginny’s like Fleur in many ways.” He chuckled. “That’s why she looks so beautiful when she wears that necklace. Fleur told me before we gave it to her that it would have that effect. But you have to be careful around a woman like that. Ginny is so strong, and when she decides what she wants, there isn’t much that can stop her. Fleur’s like that too.” He chuckled again.

“I can see that, about Ginny, I mean. In a way it makes me love her even more. Being with her is like a ride on a broomstick.”

Bill laughed. “That’s the best I heard anyone describe her. But,” he became serious, “you’ve also got to see your life with her from her point of view. Why does she love you? I don’t mean, what are the specific reasons. What I mean is that she loves you because of who and what you are, for you, yourself. What I think is happening has more to do with you than anything else. Your feelings about something have changed, and you’re afraid that you and Ginny will stop loving each other. If you two are at all like Fleur and me, then that will never happen. It’s just like you said, you’ll find new and different reasons to love her.”

Harry put his hands behind his head and leaned back in the chair; he felt restless, unable to hold still. “When we were at the Burrow during the summer, I only wanted to be with her. Now, I still want to be with her, but when I’m not, I feel like I’m not really doing anything. I feel useless. She’s got interesting classes, friends with her all the time, Quidditch . . . All I’ve got is that damned—”

He stopped and frowned at Bill. “I’ve got the inn,” he finished, and his hands gripped the chair again.

Bill looked at him sympathetically. “That’s what has changed. We talked about it, as I recall. What you’ve got to do is figure out what it is you want. I said before that I wondered if running an inn is the right thing for you. And so have lots of other people.”

“I know,” Harry said, “I had lunch with Kingsley a few days ago.”

“And I can imagine what he told you.”

“Actually, it was Saliyah Ushujaa who said it.”

“Whoever. But it’s your decision, _you_ bought the inn, _you_ decided to live there so you could be near Ginny. Listen,” he said before Harry, clearly nettled, could speak, “I know exactly why you did that. Can you imagine what it’s like to have a veela say that she loves you? It’s almost impossible to resist.” He smiled and got a dreamy look in his eyes. “Not that I tried very hard.”

Harry didn’t smile; he put his hands behind his head again and sighed. “I understand what you’re saying, but if I didn’t live in Hogsmeade, where would I go? Grimmauld Place? That would be like living in a mausoleum. And I do want to be near Ginny.” He dropped his hands and fidgeted with them again.

“Well, you’ll have to work that one out for yourself. Just remember two things. One, you have a lot of friends who would do anything to help you. And two, you have a girlfriend who will do the same. But think about it, would you want her to do something that was not true to herself? I have a feeling that Ginny knows better than most people that the most important thing is to be herself.”

Harry remembered what Ginny had said to him after Dumbledore’s funeral, when he had told her that they could not be together. He smiled. “That rings a bell.”

“And you have to want the same thing, you have to be true to yourself. You’ll never be happy otherwise, even if you’re with Ginny. You are with Harry Potter more than you’re with Ginny Weasley.”

Harry was silent for several moments, then he glanced at the clock on the mantel. “I guess I should be going. I don’t want to leave Stan alone for the dinner hour. Thanks, Bill, I feel better.”

Bill looked a little surprised at the sudden end of the conversation, but he smiled. “Any time you want to talk, Harry, just owl me. And if you and Ginny want to spend some time here again, you’re always welcome.”

As they got to their feet, Fleur came out of the kitchen. “So ‘ow did ze boys’ chat go?” she grinned. “You should be careful of Bill’s advice, ‘Arry. Remember, ‘e works in a bank, for goblins, no less. ‘Ow can you trust zat?”

Bill laughed. “We were talking about love—” Fleur smiled at Harry’s blush “—so anything I said I learned from you.”

“Ahh,” Fleur’s eyebrows rose, and Harry wondered if he had ever seen a woman’s face look so fetching. “In zat case, I know you gave ‘im good advice, because you ‘ave become very good at love.” She kissed Bill, and took Harry’s hand. “I will tell you one t’ing. Ginny loves you more zan her own life, and you love ‘er ze same way. And zat is ‘ow it should be, because zen you will grow old togezer and die ‘appy.”

Without realizing what he was doing, Harry hugged Fleur, but quickly let go as she laughed. “Goodbye, ‘Arry. You and Ginny must come for dinner. I will send you an invitation, okay?”

Harry returned to Hogsmeade just as Kreacher and Stan were starting to serve dinner. He felt better for having talked to Bill, but he wasn’t sure that he had got answers that would make things better. He was still stuck alone in the inn after closing time, and he still felt there were parts of Ginny’s life he was excluded from. He even couldn’t help thinking that someone as pathetic as Turquoise Southeby could get a date and not be alone just by winking at a wizard in the street.

Harry also felt a little embarrassed for ending the conversation so abruptly. Bill had noticed, but he had said something that made Harry uncomfortable, something about being himself. People were pushing him to sign up for the Auror training program, but that was exactly what he did not want. He had done his part, now let someone else do it for a while. It had made him angry, and he did not want Bill to see that, so he had decided to end the chat before Bill could mention the program; hopefully Bill would forget about it.

As he served customers, his thoughts went to what Fleur had said about him and Ginny. He knew it was true—he would stand in front of a Killing Curse to save her—but he still wondered how he was going to get through the next nine months before they would be wholly together, like they were during the summer. He wondered about his fear, his anger, his frustration, his dissatisfaction. How bad would it get? Only one thing was keeping it all at bay, and she was not here.

That evening he sent a packet of chocolates to Ginny, but no words except “Love” which he wrote on the red ribbon he tied it up with. She sent the ribbon back, tied around a few strands of her hair, and Harry’s resistance crumbled. He got into bed with the lock of hair and the Marauder’s Map, put the Bouquedelle to his lips, leaned back, closed his eyes, and let his mind go where it would. After a few minutes he looked at the map and saw Ginny’s dot in bed. He smiled; her theory was wrong: her feet were not touching the floor, yet the map knew where she was.

# # # #

Harry was in the entrance hall at four-thirty the next afternoon. He stood at the foot of the marble staircase and peered up each time someone came down. For some reason he was nervous, as if he was going out with Ginny for the first time. When she did appear, carrying her satchel and a book bag, his pulse quickened and he ran up the stairs and took the bags from her.

“Hi,” he said as she stood on the steps smiling, ”you look beautiful.”

“Well, thanks, so do you.”

They walked out with Ginny holding Harry’s arm. They were both silent as they walked down the drive and into Hogsmeade. Ginny’s grip on his arm tightened and her breathing became quicker when the inn came in sight. They climbed the stairs with Harry’s heart pounding, and when they entered the flat Harry dropped her bags and they stared at each other. Suddenly they were down on the floor and Harry was pulling off her clothes.

“Harry,” she laughed, “wait! The bed. Your floor is hard.”

Later they lay close together inside the warm coziness of the four-poster with the covers pushed back. Ginny’s eyes were closed but her finger was making circles on Harry’s chest; his arm was around her back, holding her against his side.

“This is the best,” she said in a dreamy voice. “If this was the only place in the world, I could be happy here.”

“I _am_ happy here,” Harry kissed her forehead. “Are you sure you are?”

Ginny opened her eyes and blinked. “Yes. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, I don’t know. You have a lot of other things going on.”

She sat up on her elbow and looked at him; her hair hung down on his face and he smiled and blew a strand out of his mouth. His hand caressed her breasts.

“Other things?” Ginny said, puzzled. “What do you mean? Quidditch?”

“Well, yeah, but that’s fine. I just want you to be happy _here_. This isn’t my place, it’s our place.”

“I know that, and that’s why I love it, because you wanted it to be ours, and you made it ours.” She shook her head so that her hair swished across his face, and Harry giggled. She kissed him and he started to pull her down, but she lifted her head again. “Of all the things I have ‘going on’ this is the most important. I would give up everything if I had to, but not this.”

Harry pulled her down and they kissed; his arms were around her back and he held her tightly. “I don’t want you to give up anything,” he whispered into her ear. “I love you.” Ginny moved on top and their bodies were connected from their mouths down to their feet and they were both in heaven.

For dinner in the parlor that evening there was a juicy, thick-sliced London broil with baked potatoes and a string bean-and-almond casserole, illuminated by veela candlelight. Harry was thirsty, and drank two bottles of Potio Vitae, while Ginny stuck with butterbeer. They went down to the dining room afterwards and were greeted by Tony and other villagers. Harry and Ginny sat with a group of their friends near the bar, and they passed the evening with good conversation and Winky’s excellent desserts.

The Hogwarts memorial service started at ten o’clock the next morning. Harry and Ginny walked to the castle, Harry wearing his academic robes. The Hogwarts Express had just pulled in carrying magical people who wanted to travel with friends and family rather than arrive via magic, and Muggle parents who were joining their magical children for the service. Some people were climbing into the horseless carriages, and others were walking up to the castle. Harry saw Andromeda Tonks pushing Teddy along in a pram and he and Ginny went over to them. Andromeda looked around when he called her and smiled.

“Harry! And Ginny! You’re both looking very well. How is everything?”

“Okay,” Harry replied, gazing down at Teddy; the infant was sleeping with a pacifier in his mouth. Ginny squatted down and adjusted his blanket.

She smiled at Harry. “He’s beautiful, isn’t he? How are you doing?” she asked Andromeda.

“We’re fine. This is the first we’ve traveled anyplace. He’s still too little to Portkey or Floo. I came with your parents, but I think they’ve gone on ahead. I had to change him.” She laughed.

Harry offered to push the pram, and they walked up the lane together. Harry kept glancing at his godson, telling himself that he should visit them sometime. But Andromeda didn’t mention it, and when they arrived at the castle and Harry carried the stroller up the stairs, Andromeda went ahead into the Great Hall while Harry and Ginny went upstairs to the common room. Harry waited while Ginny changed into her robes, and they returned to the Great Hall.

The tables were gone and rows of chairs faced the platform on which the staff table usually stood; that table was gone too, but the chairs were still there and a large black curtain hung on the wall behind the platform. Harry and Ginny found seats next to Ron and Hermione, near Molly and Arthur. They saw all of their friends: Neville was sitting with Keesha next to Luna and Dean; Bill, Fleur, George and Percy were sitting together with Lee Jordan; every member of Dumbledore’s Army was there, most of them together near the front.

A shadow passed over a window, and they saw Grawp peering inside. There was a stir in the back and everyone turned at the clopping of hooves as a dozen centaurs entered and stood along the side of the room. Officials of the Ministry and the Wizengamot sat in their formal robes, looking properly somber. Several ghosts floated overhead; Ginny looked around in a moment of panic, but thankfully Peeves was nowhere in sight. Tony Trostle and his entire crew were there, and Ginny did a double-take when she saw Elizabeth Derby’s parents walk in. She scanned the Hall but did not see her uncles.

She turned to Harry, but a door opening in the side wall caught her eye; Hagrid was there, gesturing. She nudged Harry. “I think he wants you.”

“I was afraid of this,” Harry muttered. He shook his head at Hagrid, who nodded, pointed at Harry, and jerked his thumb backward. Harry sighed and stood. “I’ll see you later,” he said in resignation. Ginny squeezed his hand, and Harry excused himself down the row and walked over to Hagrid.

“Mornin’, Harry,” the gamekeeper said as he pulled Harry through the door and closed it behind them. “Perfessor McGonagall and the Minister was wonderin’ if yeh wouldn’t mind sittin’ up on the platform with the staff. They don’t want yeh to say anything, but they figure that yeh should be up there, considerin’ it was you that killed You-Know—I mean, killed Riddle and all. Yeh don’ mind, do yeh?” He peered down at Harry.

Harry sighed. “I really would rather not, but I know you won’t let me go, so . . . what do I do?”

“There,” Hagrid grinned, staggering Harry with a pat on the back. “I told ‘em yeh’d be happy to do it. Come on, they’re all waitin’ back here.”

He led Harry through a short corridor into a crowded room. All the teachers were there, plus Argus Filch in his best moth-eaten, ancient suit, together with a half-dozen people from the Ministry. As Harry stood there, he heard a bullfrog voice and, to his utter astonishment and delight, saw Kreacher talking to Professor Flitwick; the locket of Regulus Black hung from his neck. Harry started to walk towards the elf, but Kingsley Shacklebolt intercepted him.

“How are you, Harry.” He looked grim, and took Harry’s arm and pulled him into a corner; Saliyah Ushujaa followed and stood between them and the rest of the room. “We don’t have time to talk a lot,” the Minister said in a low voice, not letting go of Harry’s arm, “but I just wanted you to know that we have definite word that eight of the Death Eaters who escaped are back in England. Umbridge is still abroad, though. She was spotted in France just yesterday, and we’re tailing her. She probably knows that, so we don’t expect her to try to return. But we are aware of the problems you’ve had, Harry, and we don’t want you to think we’re ignoring them.”

Harry glanced at Morequest Pester talking to Professor Slughorn. “What about him?” Harry said tightly. “Isn’t he supposed to be keeping his eye on things?”

“Don’t worry about Professor Pester,” Shacklebolt said. There was a small edge to his voice, but it softened as he continued. “Just keep your own eyes open, and keep up those spells you put on your inn. They’re excellent ones, and,” he smiled, “an indication of your talents.”

He let Harry’s arm go. “Sorry about being pushy like that,” he said cheerfully. “Someone in my position is always supposed to have an agenda. You know what mine is as far as you are concerned.” He laughed in his booming voice, but quickly stopped and looked guiltily at Minerva McGonagall who was frowning at him.

In a few minutes the Headmistress led the assembled teachers and officials into the Great Hall. Harry sat between Hagrid and Professor Sprout, glad to be in the former’s shadow. He looked out over the Hall and smiled when Ginny blew him a kiss. He was also glad to see that two dozen house-elves had come up from the kitchen and were standing in a group along the wall.

There were speeches from Shacklebolt, McGonagall, Firenze, Slughorn, and a short one from Kreacher, who kept his hand on the locket while he spoke. There were several moments of silence, the last one accompanied by the tolling of the school bell fifty-four times, once for each person killed during the battle. When the final stroke sounded, the black curtain behind the platform rose to reveal a large, dark-gray memorial tablet, about fifteen feet square, attached to the back wall, holding the names in brass letters of the dead. Next to each name were their year of birth and the year of their death: 1998. Above it was the seal of Hogwarts, and at each corner of the tablet was the coat of arms of one of the founders.

Harry rejoined Ginny when the ceremony was over; she was standing with Ron and Hermione, and they—or at least Ginny and Ron—were discussing Quidditch. They stopped when Harry arrived, and he said, quietly, “I found out something I need to tell you. Let’s go outside.” They made their way into the entrance hall, exchanging greetings with others along the way, and walked outside and a few yards down the lawn. No one else was near, and Harry told them what Kingsley had said.

“So why didn’t they arrest them as soon as they came back?” Ginny asked. “Unless they still don’t know where they are?”

“They probably don’t,” said Ron. “From what I’ve heard, Kingsley is swamped with running the Ministry _and_ the Law Enforcement office. He’s trying to find someone to take it from him, but, in case you hadn’t noticed, all the best candidates are dead—Moody, Tonks, Scrimgeour, Amelia Bones. He wants to keep Saliyah as Head Auror to make sure that office stays up to snuff.”

Hermione frowned. “So things are slipping out of control.”

“Yes, I think that’s what’s happening. If it comes down to it, I suppose he’ll promote Saliyah, but then he’d have to fill her job.”

“Merlin, you don’t think he’d give it to Pester, do you?” Ginny asked.

“Everyone would resign if he did that. Why do you think he sent the blighter up here?”

“Wait a minute,” Harry said, “are you telling us that he sent Pester up here just to get rid of him?”

“No, no.” Ron waved his hand. “McGonagall asked for help, and Kingsley saw a chance to keep the peace in the Auror Office and satisfy her at the same time.” He grinned. “Shacklebolt’s no slouch as a politician. He survived both Fudge and Scrimgeour even though both of them suspected he was in the Order. He’s pretty slick. I really like him.”

“So everyone in the Ministry hates Pester,” Ginny mused. “I’d feel sorry for him if I didn’t feel sorrier for myself for having to take his class.”

“Okay,” Harry said, “but what about the Death Eaters. If no one knows where they are, then they could be in Hogsmeade just as easily as anywhere else.”

“That’s what I think,” said Hermione. “Harry, you need to be careful. They’re powerless to do any real damage, except for an act of revenge. You’ve said that you think someone’s out to make your life miserable. I think that’s exactly what’s happening.”

“Revenge?” Ginny looked at Harry in alarm, but Harry shrugged.

“I’ve protected the inn as best I can, and I’m not going to stop doing what I want, especially after everything I went through last year.” He looked at Ginny. “And what I want is to be here.”

“I want you to be here too.”

“I have another question,” Ron put in. “What about the toad?”

“That _is_ a good question,” Hermione said. “It almost sounds like she’s directing the whole thing from France while the others come back to do the dirty work.”

“As far as I’m concerned, “ said Harry, “the only questions are, what is the dirty work, who’s doing it, and what will their next move be?”

After a moment while they all considered this, Hermione spoke. ”I don’t think anyone can say. If they can’t directly attack the inn itself, it could be anything.”

“You’re right,” Harry agreed. “And since there’s nothing to be done, let’s go eat.”

They trooped back into the Great Hall. The four tables were set up again and were becoming crowded as students, parents, and other visitors sat down for lunch. Ginny saw Emma and Claire sitting between two Muggles, obviously their parents. The twins both waved, then spoke to the Muggles who turned and nodded to Ginny. They continued to look towards her, but after a moment Ginny realized that they were staring at Ron. He already had five empty serving dishes in front of him, and was reaching across Hermione for another; his prodigious appetite must be a wonder even in the Muggle world.

The four finished eating and left the Great Hall. Ginny had begun to grow nervous about both the tryouts and Harry’s state of mind; he hadn’t said anything about going back to Hogsmeade, and he seemed quiet. She told herself that his mood could have been caused by his conversation with the Minister, but just to be certain, she pulled him aside while they were standing inside the great oak doors, and asked him how he was doing.

“I’m fine,” he assured her. “I’ll go help Stan get ready for the dinner crowd. Do you still want to go into London tonight?”

“Yes, I do. Have you mentioned it to Ron yet?”

“Yeah, and he said they found a great Muggle restaurant that they want to take us to. When do you think you’ll be done with the tryouts?”

‘I’ll be back by five.” Then she smiled. “I’ll be back home by five.”

“Good.” He kissed her. “I’ll be waiting.” He waved at Ron and Hermione as he passed them and went quickly out the doors and down the drive.

Ron watched him and turned to Ginny. “Where is he going? Doesn’t he want to see the tryouts?”

Ginny hesitated. “Um . . . no. He has things to do at the inn. I told him I’d be back by five.”

Hermione looked at her questioningly. “Harry doesn’t want to watch Quidditch? That doesn’t sound like him.”

“Well, that’s what he wants. I have to go change and get my broom. What are you going to do?” She looked at both Ron and Hermione.

“I thought we’d watch the tryouts,” said Ron. “You didn’t say anything about closing them.”

Ginny didn’t like this. She didn’t want to have another argument about the tryouts, this time with Ron, but Harry would be sure to find out if Ron was there. At the same time, she saw no reason to keep Ron out; she would not be intimidated by Ron’s presence like she would by Harry’s. The only reason for barring Ron was because Harry might be upset.

“They aren’t closed,” she replied. “Just keep your opinions to yourself, got it?”

“Got it,” Ron laughed. “I don’t want to end up on the same list as Turquoise.”

“I’m sure you don’t. I’ll see you down there.” Ginny didn’t smile or laugh, but turned and walked away. Hermione watched her go up the stairs.

“That was a little odd,” she said to Ron. “I think they had a disagreement about something.”

“About what? Harry’s not the captain any more. He knows that.”

“Ginny may be insecure about her position. She seemed a little defensive.”

“That’s impossible. She’s never been defensive about anything in her life.”

Hermione laughed. “Okay, big brother, if you say so. Let’s go watch the tryouts. Maybe I’ll Confund someone again.”

“Oho! It finally comes out. You had the hots for me even then.”

“In your dreams, Weasley,” Hermione laughed again; she took his arm and they walked down to the Quidditch pitch.

Half of the Gryffindor students were in the stands when Ginny walked out onto the pitch, and the other half were gathered in a crowd near the center circle with their broomsticks. She stood in front of them and looked them over.

The first ones she noticed were Emma and Claire; they were holding fifteen-year-old Comet models that they must have dug up from a forgotten broom cupboard somewhere. Ginny wondered if they had even had any flying lessons yet. Two other first-years also looked nervously back at her. Dennis Creevey was bright-eyed and hyper, bouncing on the balls of his feet, anxious to begin. The rest, except for the veterans, stood in a cluster with uncertain looks, and Ginny hoped fervently that at least a handful of them could challenge the likes of Ritchie Coote and Jack Sloper.

“All right!” she said in a loud voice, deliberately glaring at them. “We have work to do. First, I want everyone to shut up.” She glowered at Jimmy Peakes who was whispering to his fifth-year girlfriend, Cindy Snow; he stopped talking and looked at Ginny.

“Sorry,” he said. “Go ahead.”

“Thank you, Jimmy,” Ginny growled, “I appreciate having your permission. Now listen, everyone.” She looked around the group. “This team has lost a lot of talent over the past two years. Last year was a waste for the whole school, so every House team has problems this year. Gryffindor was the best team in the school when—” She stopped; she hadn’t meant to say that Harry had made it the best team, even though it was true. They needed to move past him, past having an unstoppable Seeker.

“We were the best for six years,” she continued, “but it’ll be a challenge to keep it up. This is my last year, and I really want to keep the Quidditch Cup in Professor McGonagall’s office.”

People stirred and shifted. Emma and Claire smiled at her, and Dennis’s bouncing became so vigorous that Demelza Robins had to put her hand on his shoulder to keep him in place.

Ginny raised her Firebolt over her head. “First-years, I want you to mount your brooms and circle the pitch. Everyone else, sit.”

To Ginny’s surprise, the twins weren’t bad. They wobbled and had trouble turning so that they tended to bump into each other and the other first-years, Tommy Sobolow and Brian Hancock, but they managed to stay in the air for a complete—if slow—circuit of the pitch. Ginny thought there was a future for them on the team, but not this year. She thanked them and they left the pitch in good humor, and joined the rest of the House in the stands.

The tryouts for the Beaters went well. Jimmy and Will Reynolds—a sixth-year—beat out Ritchie, Jack and Andrew Kirke, the only Beaters who also had experience; a half-dozen rookies were completely inept, and Ginny wondered what such a shallow talent pool augured for next year’s team. But those worries were swept aside by worse ones when the Chasers took to their brooms against the lone tryout for Keeper, Dennis Creevey.

Demelza was a better than average Chaser, and she was clearly the best of the lot. But even the others had no trouble scoring against Dennis. He knew nothing about playing Keeper, and even though he was quick, he was never in position, and on the few occasions he guessed right, the Quaffle always passed just out of his short reach. The thought briefly occurred to Ginny that _she_ might have to play Keeper. After she picked Frances Spangler—a fourth-year—and Meeta Bharathi—a sixth-year—as the other Chasers, she called a break and walked over to Ron and Hermione, who were sitting in the first row of the stands near the announcer’s box.

“We have a problem.” Ginny leaned on the railing and looked back at the teammates she had selected; they and Dennis were sitting on the grass in the middle of the pitch comparing brooms. “Did you see Dennis? The only thing I can say for him is that he’s not throwing up like you used to do.”

“I could give him some pointers if you want,” said Ron. “His big problem is that he’s always out of position, and that’s something that can be coached. Puking, however, cannot be coached.”

“Ha, ha, very funny.” Ginny felt a tightening in her gut. She wanted to say yes, she knew that she should say yes, but she knew that it would hurt Harry. She thought for a moment, and again made a quick decision. “I don’t think I have a choice. Unless someone else wants it, he’s our Keeper, and if he can’t play any better than that, we’re dead.”

“No, you’re not,” said Hermione. “You’re the best Seeker in the school. If you catch the Snitch every time, you’ll win all your matches.”

“Not if they score twenty goals against us first,” Ginny grunted. “Oi, Dennis!” she yelled. He looked up and she waved to him. “Over here!”

“I know I can do better,” he said when came over, and before Ginny could speak. “It’s a lot faster than I thought. I just have to get used to it.”

“You need to anticipate where the shot’s going,” said Ron. “If you—”

“Ron’s going to coach you,” Ginny interrupted, scowling at her brother. “You don’t have a problem with that, do you?” Dennis shook his head, and Ginny turned to Ron. “How often could you come up here?”

“I can be here almost every weekend. We were more or less expecting to be here, or you and Harry being down with us on weekends, so I can spend an hour or so at the pitch without changing any plans.”

“And if I have something that I need to do,” Hermione added, “I can just join you all later.”

Ginny looked at Dennis. “If that’s all right with you, then you are the Keeper, but you have to be available for Ron when it’s convenient for him. Okay?”

Dennis nodded enthusiastically. “Okay! Thanks!” he pumped Ginny’s hand and Ron’s, and ran off the pitch waving his broom over his head.

Ginny put her hand on Ron’s, which was resting on the railing. “Thanks, Ron, I appreciate this.” Hermione looked at her closely, but didn’t say anything, and Ginny walked back out to the team. They scrambled to their feet.

“Dennis is Keeper,” she said; they glanced at each other and Jimmy scowled. Ginny ignored it. “We don’t have a choice, unless one of you wants to try out for it. And my brother Ron will coach him.” They all looked a little relieved—even Jimmy. “I’ll let you know about the first practice,” Ginny said, and smiled. “I think we have a pretty solid team, especially if Dennis improves.”

She walked with Ron and Hermione back to Hogsmeade, silently hoping that Harry would understand why she had asked Ron to help, but the closer they got to the inn, the more doubts she had about the wisdom of her decision. She could have asked for more people to try out for Keeper; she could have asked one of the players who had made the team to switch; she could have postponed the tryout for Keeper. But she had wanted to get it over with and push ahead, since the team would need as much work as it could get. So she had let herself be hurried along by Jimmy, and now she was afraid that, in her haste, she had made a bad decision. She was angry with herself for that, but it was now too late to change it.

Harry was sitting at the bar drinking Potio Vitae. Ron joined him, and before Ginny could say anything, he picked up a butterbeer and spoke.

“Well, mate, just in case I flunk out of Auror school, I’ve started my second career. You are looking at Gryffindor’s Keeper coach.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up. “Keeper coach? What do they need a Keeper coach for?” He looked at Ginny and back at Ron.

Ginny pushed between him and Ron. “Harry,” she said quickly, “we need to talk. Let’s go upstairs.”

Harry got off his stool without a word and walked out of the dining room. Ginny followed, but not before seeing Hermione put her hand over Ron’s mouth and Ron sputter in surprise.

Upstairs, Harry did not look at Ginny, but walked to the picture window, watching shadows of clouds moving across the hills in the distance. Ginny came and stood next to him.

“It’s a nice view,” Harry said.

Ginny took his arm and leaned her head against his shoulder. “Harry, I’m sorry. I probably did the wrong thing. Ron wanted to come to the tryout, and, well . . .” She chuckled. “It’s not that hard for me to tell him to shut up if I have to, so I didn’t see any reason to say no. And then Dennis was dreadful, and Ron offered to coach him, and I said yes. That’s what happened.”

Harry nodded without looking at her. “I understand.” He turned to her. “I really do, Gin, and it’s okay. It’s just that . . .” He turned back to the view out the window. “Oh, for God’s sake, there she is again.”

Ginny looked out and saw Turquoise Southeby sauntering across the field towards the High Street; she looked, from a distance, like she was dressed for a big night in the village, wearing another short, tight dress with a low-cut bodice. Her long, blond hair fell in waves around her shoulders.

“If she’s so bad off, where does she get all those clothes?” Ginny said. “That stuff doesn’t look cheap, even if she does.”

“The hell with her.” Harry turned to Ginny. “Gin, I feel like I’m stuck in this place. I don’t like being alone here. I want to be with you.”

He looked out the window again, but Ginny turned him to face her, and she saw the frustration in his eyes. She put her hand on his cheek.

“Love, I’m sorry. I want us to be together all the time too. All week I thought about being here with you.” She took his face in her hands. “I love you. You’re the most important thing in my life.”

He looked down at the floor. “I dread Sunday night.”

“Harry, I can’t stay. I’ll get detention, and if I do it again, they might take the team away from me.”

“I know.” He took her and gently rubbed her back. “It’s my problem. I’m sorry for ruining your weekend and your tryouts.”

“You didn’t ruin anything.” She pushed away and looked at him fiercely. “Don’t say that! The tryouts went okay, and we’ll be together tonight and all of tomorrow.” She smiled. “I only have a little homework, so we can be lazy all day.”

“That sounds nice.” He pulled her back and did things with his hands as he kissed her.

“Harry,” she gave a little moan, “Ron and Hermione are waiting for us.”

“That’s right.”

They were back downstairs in half an hour. Hermione observed them as they sat at the table with her and Ron. “All set for an evening on the town?”

“I’m up for anything,” said Harry, leaning back and putting his arm on the back of Ginny’s chair. She turned a slight shade of pink and closed her mouth to suppress a giggle.


	22. The Empty Lane

Saturday night in town with Ron and Hermione was a blur of spicy Indian food, London’s night lights, loud Muggle music in a flashy club, and hair-raising rides in taxicabs driven by strange Muggles from all over the world. Afterwards, Harry and Ginny returned to the inn, had a late-night snack in the little kitchen, and dove into bed, where they remained until the middle of Sunday afternoon, making love, sleeping, talking, eating, and just lying together, savoring each other.

Ginny got up at three o’clock and worked on a Potions parchment, while Harry went downstairs to see how things were going and help Stan re-stock the bar from the storeroom. A new shipment of drinks had come in on Saturday, and Harry was annoyed when he discovered that some of the Potio Vitae and butterbeer bottles were a different size than the others; they wouldn’t fit into the storage racks, so he had to keep them separate.

He and Ginny ate a light supper, and at eight-thirty walked back to Hogwarts. Argus Filch was standing at the front door with Mrs. Norris at his feet and his pocket watch in his hand. He glared at them, but his jaw and the pocket watch both hit the floor as Harry and Ginny embraced in the middle of the entrance hall; the snog broke up only when Keesha and Neville walked through the doors just before nine.

Keesha waved at the bemused caretaker. “Thanks for waiting up for us, Mr. Filch. S’up, Ginny, hey, Harry.”

“We visited Keesha’s family in Birmingham,” Neville said. “Blimey, can her mum cook! Harry, did I tell you I was accepted at the College of Herbology in Lancaster? I’m starting next week, and I’ll be renting a flat a block away from campus. My parents have a pension coming, and Gran said I could use some of it to pay the rent.”

“And I’ll be visiting Lancaster a lot,” Keesha smiled. “Luna needs a boyfriend, otherwise she’ll be on her own over weekends.”

Ginny giggled. “That would be great, but it’s not too likely, unfortunately.”

“Yeah, that’s a shame,” said Neville. “She’s a really interesting girl, but she’s different.”

At that moment Filch snapped his watch shut and the castle clock struck nine. A double snog followed, until finally Filch ostentatiously opened the doors and cleared his throat. Harry and Neville said goodbye to their ladies and left.

Neville hummed a tuneless melody as he and Harry walked down the drive. “Harry,” he finally said, “you’ll never guess who was at Keesha’s house. Kingsley Shacklebolt, he’s her uncle, would you believe it? He was really cool to talk to.”

“He was there?” Harry had been preoccupied with thoughts of returning to an empty flat and an empty bed; he hadn’t really been listening, but now he paid attention.

“Yeah, I thanked him for the pension they’re giving to my parents, and he actually thanked _me_. Telling me to kill that snake was brilliant, Harry. It got me Keesha and it got me a handshake from the Minister for Magic.” Neville laughed.

“You deserve both. It took guts to do what you did.”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t anything like what you did.”

“But it was.” Harry stopped and put his hand on Neville’s arm. “Riddle was going to kill you just like he thought he had killed me.” He let go of the arm and they resumed walking; they had passed the castle gates and were in the lane. “You did a great thing, Neville. I couldn’t have done what I did if you hadn’t killed the snake.” Harry could almost feel Neville’s blush; as they passed the train station he glanced at his friend and saw his red face in the lights.

“Minister Shacklebolt talked about Seamus and Dean too,” Neville continued. “And also Ron. Did you know that Seamus is in the same Auror program? And Dean got a job as an intern at St. Mungo’s. Isn’t it brilliant how all of us in our year are doing really interesting things? I mean, it’s really cool what you’ve done to the Hog’s Head, it was such a dump.”

They were now in Hogsmeade, passing The Three Broomsticks. Neville kept on talking, not noticing the change in Harry’s mood, nor his tight-lipped expression. “Have you thought about the Auror program?” Neville asked. “You would do great in it, Harry. You taught us so much in Dumbledore’s Army, and you’re so good at so many things.”

Harry stopped, anger and exasperation rising. Why was everyone always telling him about everyone else’s brilliant career, and telling him he should do something he didn’t want to do? “Neville, don’t you have to go home now?” he said tersely.

“Huh?” Neville looked at him blankly. “I was going to hang out at your place for a while. Is that all right?”

“Fine, just shut up about Ron and Dean and Seamus and yourself, okay?”

He left Neville standing open-mouthed in the middle of the High Street, but Harry took only a few steps before the stupidity of what he had said hit him. He had no idea what had made him speak like that. He turned around with an apology on his tongue, but Neville was not there. Harry stared at the empty street for several moments, wishing he could take it back, but there was no one to take it back from. He slowly walked on to the Hog’s Head.

He didn’t want to talk to anyone, so he went around back and up to the flat. He sat in the love seat in the dark, holding his head, wondering what had happened, where that cruelty had come from, until there was a scratch on the window and he saw Bailey with a message in her beak. He let her in and she hopped onto the perch next to McPherson and bent towards Harry, offering him the parchment. Harry took it and went back to the love seat, lit his wand and read Ginny’s note.

 

 

 

 

> _My darling Harry,_
> 
> _I had a wonderful day and a wonderful weekend. I am already looking forward to next weekend, when we can spend two whole days together. Keesha and I thought that it would be fun for the four of us to go someplace. She said there’s a beautiful park near her home where we could have a picnic if the weather is good._
> 
> _I’ll be waiting in bed for you to use the map. Did I tell you that it makes me feel all warm and then I want you to be doing other things, too? When I see you on Friday I’ll tell you what those things are, but meanwhile, use your imagination._
> 
> _I will love you forever._
> 
> _Ginny_

Harry crumpled the parchment in his fist and pressed it against his forehead. Now he felt sickened by what he had done to Neville. He went into the bedroom and threw himself face down on the bed, and lay there trying not to think about anything. He gradually became aware that the pillow smelled just like Ginny, and he also noticed that it was becoming damp from his tears.

He sat up, wiping his face, and went to his dresser and took up the photograph of Ginny in its gold frame, the one they had taken on their shopping trip to Diagon Alley. She blew a kiss at him, just as she had done at the Hogwarts memorial service yesterday, and Harry felt his eyes start to brim again.

“Damn!” he said out loud, and put the photo down. He got out a fresh piece of parchment and wrote.

 

 

 

 

> _Ginny,_
> 
> _I need to see you tomorrow morning. Something happened when Neville and I left you this evening, and I really need to talk to you. It’s very important. Please._
> 
> _Love, Harry_

He sent it off with Bailey, and as he watched the owl disappear into the night, he felt relief wash over him; he would talk to Ginny and she would help fix it with Neville.

He waited at the window until Bailey returned fifteen minutes later, and he snatched the note from her beak. She squawked indignantly and hopped away on the windowsill, watching suspiciously as he read.

 

 

 

 

> _Harry,_
> 
> _Are you all right? I’ll be in the library at nine._
> 
> _Love, Ginny_

Harry debated whether to answer her question, and decided on the truth.

 

 

 

 

> _Ginny,_
> 
> _No, I am not okay. I said something to Neville tonight that I wish I hadn’t. I don’t know why I said it, but I’m afraid I hurt him. I feel terrible._
> 
> _Love, Harry_

Bailey took it and flew away. Ginny’s answer came in a few minutes.

 

 

 

 

> _My darling Harry,_
> 
> _I’m sure it will be okay. Please don’t worry yourself, Neville is one of your best friends._
> 
> _And I love you._
> 
> _Ginny_

Harry left it at that and joined the crowd downstairs. He stayed until midnight, locked up the inn after Stan left, and went to bed. He slept poorly, tossing and turning, burying his face in Ginny’s pillow, and getting up several times to stand in front of the picture window, trying to understand why he had become so angry. The sky lightened and the sun rose, and Harry had no answers.

Ginny was waiting in the entrance hall when he arrived at the castle and she took his hand. “Let’s go for a walk,” she said after giving him a kiss.

“How come you weren’t in the library? Don’t you have work to do?” Harry said as they descended the steps to the lawn.

“Nothing that can’t wait.” She steered them towards the lake, and they stopped at a large spruce and sat on the bed of needles underneath it; they could see Professor Sprout with a sixth-year Herbology class down at the water’s edge collecting specimens. Ginny was still holding Harry’s hand, and stroked it gently, waiting.

Harry looked into her eyes, and began speaking. “We were in the village, and Neville started talking about the guys in our year. We’ve all started . . . I guess you could call it careers. Dean is an intern at St. Mungo’s. Everyone is doing something except me, but Neville talked about the inn too, how nice it looks now. Then I got angry, and I told him to shut up.”

Harry swallowed; he looked at the lake and at Ginny again. “I wanted to apologize, but he had Disapparated, I guess. He was gone. I don’t know why I did that, why I got so angry. Ginny, I felt so bad. Neville wouldn’t hurt a fly, and there I was telling him to shut up.”

Ginny saw the frustration in Harry’s eyes that was appearing there more and more often. “He didn’t Disapparate,” she said, and Harry blinked in surprise. “He went into The Three Broomsticks and borrowed an owl from Madam Rosmerta. He sent a letter to Keesha, and she showed it to me this morning.”

“He did? She did?”

Ginny smiled. “Neville said something was bothering you, and that you were upset. He didn’t say anything about what you said. He wanted Keesha to ask me what was wrong.”

“He did?” Harry shook his head as though clearing it. “He wasn’t mad at me?”

“Oh, Harry, you just can’t accept that people love you. Neville knew that something was really bothering you, otherwise you would never have talked like that.”

Harry sighed. “Yeah, I’d like to believe that, but I stayed up half the night trying to figure it out.”

‘Isn’t it obvious?”

“The inn?”

“Of course it’s the inn. What else could it be?”

Harry leaned back against the tree and drew his knees up and frowned. “Are you saying I should get rid of it?”

“I sure would miss it if you did, but if it’s tearing you up . . .” She put her hand on his knees and leaned her chin on it. Harry looked at her beautiful face, only inches from his.

“I don’t want to sell it. It’s our home. Maybe . . . maybe I’ll take more classes. I’m supposed to start with Flitwick on Wednesday, and I’ll ask McGonagall if she can tutor me in Transfiguration. It’ll be something else to do, to help pass the time.”

“But you don’t want to take anything from Pester?” Ginny laughed and ducked as he tried to tap the top of her head with his fist.

“No thanks.” Harry also laughed. “He’s all yours.” Ginny moved closer and put her arms around him and they fell onto the bed of spruce needles. Harry looked up at her, and she planted a kiss on him.

“What should I say to Neville?”

“‘I’m sorry.’ Because you are.”

Harry pushed up and they both stood. “Let’s go back. I’ll see if I can talk to McGonagall, and then I’ll write to Neville.” He put his arm around her and they walked back to the castle. They kissed one last time in the entrance hall, ignoring the students there. “Thank you,” Harry said to her.

“Love, you don’t have to thank me. It’s what people do for each other when they’re in love.” She kissed him and trotted away, leaving Harry in the middle of the entrance hall with a dozen students smiling at him.

Professor McGonagall could not accommodate Harry because of her many duties as both Headmistress and Transfiguration teacher. He was disappointed, but his talk with Ginny had buoyed his spirits, and he left the castle feeling better. He even nodded at Turquoise Southeby when she waved at him as she was entering the post office. He thought that he might have stumbled on a good tactic for handling her, because she seemed so startled that she forgot to open the door and bumped her face against it. He laughed to himself and entered the inn still smiling.

“‘Morning, ‘Arry,” Stan said from behind the bar. Harry sat on a stool and took a Potio Vitae that was sitting on the counter. He popped the cork, but before he could take a drink, Stan put his hand over the mouth of the bottle. “Hold on, we ‘ave a problem.”

“Do I really want to hear this?” Harry sighed and put the bottle down.

“Mr. Sipper just owled. Every single bottle that we got in stock before yesterday that’s the old style bottle has to go back. That’s about seven cases.”

Harry closed his eyes for a moment. “And why the hell is that?”

“A bar down in Plymouth ‘ad a problem. Seems they found a bunch of dead rats in the bottles.”

Harry grimaced. “So we have to send the whole lot back? What about those new bottles? We can keep them?”

“Yeah, they’re supposed to be okay.”

“Bloody hell. Well, let’s get them out of here. I don’t want someone opening one and finding a rodent, dead or alive.”

Harry heaved himself off the stool and went into the storeroom behind the bar. He began pulling out cases of Potio Vitae and looking through them for the bad bottles; the new bottles were squared off, while the old ones were cylindrical. He held a few of them up to the light, but there was nothing in them except the dark red liquid. In a few minutes he had separated them, and found that only three cases were left of the new bottles.

“I’ll have to order more,” he said to Stan back in the dining room. “And we’d better get full credit for the bad ones or Sipper will have a big problem with me.”

Harry left Stan to sort out the remaining cases, and went upstairs. He wrote out a letter to Neville, apologizing for last night, and told him that he and Ginny would like to visit him and Keesha next weekend. He gave it to McPherson, and sat down in the love seat and thought about the inn, Ginny, and himself.

He couldn’t get away from the two-year old fact that, no matter what, he needed Ginny. Two years ago that beast in his chest had almost devoured him, insisting that he must have Ginny. He had won her and experienced a few weeks of an unfamiliar happiness. Then he had pushed her away but she hadn’t accepted it, and what she had left him with—the birthday kiss in her room—had been part of his sustenance during months of exile, isolation, and fear. Ginny had been the final thought in his mind the moment he believed that his life was ending. And then came their first night together in the hammock, where they had begun to discover the depth of their love; he had truly come back to life that night.

It was possible that buying the inn was a mistake. But it was a certainty that having a place near Ginny that was theirs was the best decision he had ever made. Their love-making, their quiet meals in the parlor, their visits with Ron and Hermione . . . He would not give up any of it. He would work through the problems, be they dead rats or whatever other obstacles the world flung in his way.

He got up, lit a fire, sat back down, and daydreamed about a house that looked like the Burrow, but some of the children in it had black hair. He saw his family sitting around a table laden with food; Ginny was putting out dishes and smiling at him. She was lying in their bed, looking at him seductively, her slim, lithe body underneath him. He was sitting in a parlor with a young boy on his knee; Ginny was in an easy chair next to the fireplace, knitting a maroon jumper. She smiled, and the boy reached up and hugged him.

Harry blinked, and the Hogs Head Inn re-appeared around him. The sun was no longer coming through the picture window; it must be after noon, and he must have fallen asleep in the love seat. McPherson was back on his perch, and when he saw that Harry was awake, he hooted and looked at the mantel. Harry retrieved the letter lying there and opened it. It was from Neville, and as he read it, Harry felt both guilt and gratitude.

 

 

 

 

> _Harry, It’s okay. Don’t worry about it. I know you’re having problems with Death Eaters, or someone who wants to make your life miserable. Please tell me if I can help you in any way. Keesha wants us to have a picnic on Saturday, so let’s get together._
> 
> _Your friend, Neville_

Ginny was right. He needed to be open to the people in his life, and take what they so willingly were giving him.

# # # #

On Wednesday morning Harry went up to the castle for his first private lesson with Professor Flitwick. He taught Harry some counter-curses which they practiced for an hour. When they were finished and Harry was walking down to the Great Hall to meet Ginny for lunch, he suddenly realized that he had just had a lesson in Defense Against the Dark Arts, not Charms. Better, he thought, from Flitwick than Pester.

Ginny was waiting at the Gryffindor table and jumped up and grabbed him; they had not seen each other since Monday. They both gradually became aware of the silence that was spreading around them as people turned to watch, and they finally broke the snog when Hagrid walked past on his way to the staff table and cleared his throat so loudly that, for a moment, Harry thought the ceiling was caving in.

“Enjoy the meal, Harry,” Hagrid said with a straight face while half the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables burst out laughing. The twins were also watching with interest from across the table.

“So what are you two looking at?” Harry grinned as he and Ginny sat; he dished up broiled chicken for himself and her, a recipe of Kreacher’s that he had sent over to the Hogwarts kitchen.

“You two are always snogging,” Emma said. “Do you ever do anything else?”

Ginny gagged on her drumstick, and started coughing while Harry pounded her back. “Sometimes,” she wheezed. “Sometimes we hold hands.” She broke out in another coughing fit, and ended up laughing. “You know, when I was a first-year I had a crush on Harry, but he didn’t notice. Do those Hufflepuff twins ever notice you?”

Claire put her hand up in dismissal. “They’re ancient history. They were kind of dull. We found some more interesting boys.”

Ginny looked at Harry, who nodded solemnly. “So which House has the most interesting blokes?” he asked the twins.

“I don’t know about all boys,” Claire answered, “but Slytherins are kind of neat.”

“Whoa!” Ginny began coughing again and Harry rubbed her back as she took a sip of pumpkin juice. “Slytherins? Which ones?”

The twins exchanged a glance and giggled. “Zoroaster Black and Sean Allen,” Emma said, and blushed. “They’re hot.”

This time both Harry and Ginny laughed, but stopped when the twins’ faces dropped.

“I’m sorry,” said Ginny, “it was just surprising. I don’t think anyone outside of Slytherin has ever dated one of them, at least as far as I can remember. Wow, that’s brilliant. Good for you and good for them.”

The twins continued to blush, pleased at Ginny’s approval. “We’re not really dating,” admitted Claire, “but we like to study together.” She looked around dramatically, leaned across the table, and lowered her voice. “Zoroaster says he’s going to learn how to be an Animagus, just like your godfather.”

“I see,” Harry said, also in a stage whisper. “Just make sure he registers himself, otherwise he’ll get in trouble.”

The twins nodded, looking very serious. “Okay,” Emma whispered, “we’ll tell him.”

Ginny went outside with Harry after lunch, and they talked about the upcoming weekend and their plans to spend Saturday with Neville and Keesha. Harry kissed her goodbye and walked back to the inn feeling good. When he got to the dining room, the new order of Potio Vitae had arrived, and he helped Stan unload and store it. He spent the rest of the afternoon sitting at a table near the two D.A. plaques, working on the ledger that George had helped him set up last summer. He added columns of expenses and income, trying to figure out if he was making a profit, but by the time patrons started arriving for dinner, he had broken three quills in frustration, and decided to try again tomorrow. He put the ledger away in the kitchen and went back into the dining room to greet his customers.

Turquoise Southeby was there, but this time alone, sitting at a table near the bar. She gave Harry a small wave, but he ignored it and sat at the bar with his back to her. He opened a bottle of Potio Vitae, but every time he looked up he saw her reflection in the mirror watching him, simpering. He finally nodded briefly and left the bar with his bottle and walked past her to a table where Carlos, Tony’s foreman, was sitting with his wife and another Argentine.

Carlos spoke in halting English while his wife, Martha, smiled at Harry; the other worker, Paulo, understood enough English to translate. While they talked about Quidditch and Wandball—a magical variation of American baseball played in Latin America—Harry wondered about Turquoise.

He could not figure out why she was so persistent, given his deliberate coldness and Ginny’s explicit threat. Today she was not dressed as provocatively as she usually was, although what she was wearing—jeans and a tight sweater—did nothing to hide her figure. As long as she behaved herself, Harry had no excuse to throw her out or forbid her from returning, but her attentions annoyed him, and when he had been sitting at the bar they made him uncomfortable. He couldn’t help but believe that she was somehow connected to the attacks on the inn, but she had always had rock-solid alibis for her whereabouts. He wondered what Morequest Pester had talked to her about after the last attack.

Suddenly he had an idea, and he all but smacked himself on the forehead for not thinking of it sooner: he could use his cloak to follow her home. If she was involved with Death Eaters, there was bound to be something going on at her house. This weekend, he told himself, he and Ginny would do it.

Pleased with his plan, Harry leaned back, opened another bottle of his favorite drink, and spent the rest of the evening with his guests. Turquoise left an hour before closing, and soon the inn was dark and Harry was up in the flat, playing “Marauder’s Map” with Ginny as the owls shot back and forth between them. On McPherson’s last trip before Harry and Ginny fell asleep, he carried a packet of honey nougats to Ginny, with a note telling her he was the happiest man on the face of the earth.

# # # #

Thursday passed uneventfully, but on Friday morning when Harry came downstairs and saw Stan sitting on a stool at the bar, he knew immediately that something was wrong. Stan was drumming his fingers on the counter next to a parchment bearing the letterhead of Sipper’s Beverage and Tea Emporium. He handed it to Harry. “You ain’t gonna like this,” he said.

Harry read it and looked up at Stan. “So he’s sticking us with those cases of bad PV? He can’t do that!”

“That’s what I would ‘ave thought, but there’s also a story in the _Prophet_ this morning.” He reached over the counter and handed Harry a copy of he paper sitting on a keg of mead. He opened it to an inside page and pointed to a headline: _It Doesn’t Seem Rat._ Harry snorted and read.

 

 

 

 

> _The Potio Vitae rat race has not yet run its course. A special panel of the Wizengamot ruled yesterday that the manufacturer of the new beverage, which has been steadily growing in popularity, had proved beyond a doubt that it was not responsible for the recent rash of rats that somehow insinuated themselves into a large number of bottles of the ruby-red drink._
> 
> _A spokeswitch for the company, Belinda Smoothie, told the judges, and later the Prophet, that although her employers, A Witches Brew Ltd, regretted the incident, the unfortunate rodents were introduced into the bottles after they left the bottling plant. When asked how that could happen, she shrugged and stated that “magic is as magic does.” She refused to respond to reporters’ comments about inane responses from public relations flaks, and Disapparated, thus ending the interview._

“This is utter crap!” Harry slammed the paper down on the counter. “So they pass it on to Sipper and he passes it on to me. Who am I supposed to pass it on to? I can’t make people pay for something they haven’t bought.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Where are the bad cases? He didn’t send them back here, did he?”

“No, he’s keeping them. He’s just not crediting us.”

Harry laughed. “And then he’ll sell them again, to us or some other poor sod. Great.”

He got off the stool and looked around. It was almost opening time, and he was of half a mind not to bother with it. Maybe he could just close down and live in the flat and not have any of this constant drip, drip, drip of irritation and exasperation. But when he looked at Stan, he could tell that his barkeep was guessing his thoughts. He couldn’t do that to him, not after hiring him only a month ago.

He got back on the stool and tossed the _Prophet_ into a trash bin behind the counter. “How much Potio Vitae do we have? Is it enough to last until Monday?”

Stan looked relieved. “I think so. I’ll count them.”

He disappeared into the storeroom, leaving Harry to contemplate yet another reason to hate what he was doing. It was like a ride on a broomstick in a thunderstorm; he never knew from one second to the next whether he would be going up or down, whether he would be blown off the broom or spun around like a top. He leaned on his elbows and dug his knuckles into his temples. Where was the fun he thought he would be having? Where were the crowds of friends who were supposed to surround him with good times? If it wasn’t for Ginny and Stan, he would just pack it in and leave the inn to the Death Eaters, dead weasels, and drowned rats. It was remarkable how quickly his mood could swing from high anticipation to low dread. Two days ago he was gleefully planning a foray under his Invisibility Cloak with Ginny; now he wished he could throw it all away.

He went behind the bar and took a bottle of Potio Vitae from an open case. Before he realized what he was doing, he held it up to the light, looking for Merlin knew what; he laughed at himself and started to open it, but he stopped; maybe he shouldn’t drink so much, and leave more for his customers. Some of them drank more of it than he did.

He put the bottle back and sat on his stool. When Stan finished counting cases, they discussed how to handle the unexpected shortage of their most popular drink, and Harry got out the ledger again and, after an hour of smudged ink, more broken quills, and sweat, he balanced his books, or at least he told himself he had.

There were, thankfully, no more surprises that day, pleasant or unpleasant. Harry waited impatiently for four-thirty and hurried off to Hogwarts. He stood in the entrance hall, and when Ginny came he held her a little longer than usual.

“What is it?” she asked when Harry finally let her go.

He just looked at her. She had exactly the opposite effect on him that the inn did. Her smile made everything else go away, especially the bad things. It vanquished Jake Sipper, banished Death Eaters, and restored the inn to a place of sanctuary. She took his hands and put them around her back and kissed him.

He picked up her bags. “Let’s go, I’ll tell you on the way. It’s actually kind of funny, now that I think about it.”

He told her about the dead rats, Jake Sipper’s cheating soul, and his plan for following Turquoise Southeby. Ginny loved that idea.

“Harry, that’s brilliant. Let’s do it tonight. If she doesn’t come to the inn, we can put on the cloak and wait at The Three Broomsticks.” She squealed with delight and squeezed Harry’s arm. “And if we find a Death Eater at her house, let me try my non-verbal Stunning Spell. I got to use it on Jace yesterday. Pester had us pick new partners from a hat, and I lucked out and got him. He’s totally incompetent, I wonder how he passed his O.W.L.s.”

“Okay,” Harry grinned, “you get to take the first shot. But right now, maybe we could . . .” He paused as they reached the back door of the inn.

“What did you have in mind?” Ginny whispered into his ear while they climbed the stairs. Harry opened the door and dropped her bags in their usual spot, and staggered as Ginny launched herself onto him and wrapped her arms and legs around him. He carried her to the bed and, even when he fell on top of her, he was still wrapped.

They had dinner in the parlor again—juicy, rare hamburgers smothered in melted Swiss cheese and mushrooms, chips, and huge ice cream sundaes topped with mountains of whipped cream and nuts. Harry went downstairs, and when he came back he reported that Turquoise was there with two of her wizard friends; she was under-dressed as usual, and had watched Harry the entire time he was in the dining room. Kreacher was going to keep on eye on her, so they waited in the love seat until Winky knocked on the door and told them that “the yellow-haired witch” was leaving. They took the Invisibility Cloak, went out the back door where they threw the cloak over themselves, and walked around to the front.

After a few minutes Turquoise came out with a wizard on each arm and went up the lane; Harry and Ginny followed. At the top of the High Street Turquoise and her escorts had a short argument, and she pointed down the street. The two wizards turned and trudged unhappily away; she watched until they disappeared into The Three Broomsticks.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Turquoise pulled a short wand from inside her low-cut top and flicked it; a yellow shawl and a brown scarf with red stars and moons decorating it appeared. She put the shawl around her shoulders and drew it about herself, then put the scarf over her hair and tucked the long, blonde tresses underneath.  She took a look around and started off past Dervish and Banges and into the field that stretched behind the Hog’s Head.

Harry and Ginny had to stay far enough behind to make sure the sounds of their footsteps swishing through the long grass did not reach her. At the end of the field she climbed through the rail fence and turned into the dirt lane that led towards the hills. There were farmhouses along the lane—all of them dark at this late hour—but Turquoise kept going past them.

The road curved in several places, passing through groves of hemlock and spruce. Harry and Ginny had to hurry to keep her in sight, walking as quietly as they could, but Turquoise never looked back. A quarter moon had risen in front of them and gave them enough light to keep her shadowy figure in view.

They kept on for about a mile, past orchards and fields of ripening hay, and came to a two-lane paved Muggle road with a yellow line painted down the middle. Turquoise paused before crossing. Harry and Ginny stopped about fifty yards behind her and watched as she looked both ways and went on. The lane continued on the other side of the road, and Turquoise went down it.

When Harry and Ginny got to the motorway it was empty, and they hurried across. The lane now became rougher; weeds grew between the ruts, and the fences lining it were not well kept; rails were missing and some of the posts were leaning. The fields did not look well-tended, either; there were also no trees or farmhouses.

The lane was more curvy and they lost sight of Turquoise, so they walked faster. They came around a sharp curve, and saw her, stopped only a few yards away. There were no houses nearby, although another lane, more like a path, intersected their lane from both sides. Turquoise stood in the crossing and looked around.

Except for the moon there was no light. As Harry and Ginny watched from under the Cloak, barely breathing, Turquoise looked up and down the lane, up and down the cross path, and suddenly her figure seemed to shrink, as though it was receding into the distance. It grew fainter and vanished.

Harry and Ginny stared at the spot where Turquoise had been. They looked back down the lane, walked to the crossing, and peered up and down the path. They walked in both directions, away from the lane; there was nothing as far as they could see, not a fence, not a house, nothing. They walked another half-mile along the lane and back, but again there was nothing. Finally Harry threw off the cloak and they stared at each other.

“What on earth happened?” Ginny said. “I never saw anything like it. It didn’t look like she was Disapparating.”

“Or Portkeying, either.” Harry frowned. “There’s nothing around here, no buildings, no houses, nothing. Where the hell did she go?”

“And how did she do it?”

They stood in silence; not even a breeze rustled the weeds in the fields. Harry sighed. “Damn, I really thought we were on to something. I never expected some kind of deep, secret mystery. If she’s more than just a tart, then what is she?”

Ginny looked at Harry. “You said secret. What if it’s a—”

“Fidelius!” they both said at the same time, and they both grinned.

“That’s it!” Harry exclaimed. “That _has_ to be it! We can’t see anything because it’s protected by a Fidelius charm. But it has to be nearby because she was about to enter a house or go down a path to it. Maybe this path.” He pointed to the one they were facing.

“Then who is the Secret-Keeper?” Ginny said.

“That could be anyone. Maybe one of those blokes who were with her tonight.”

“I don’t think so. If she went to all the trouble to cast a Fidelius, then the Secret-Keeper will be someone she can really trust. Those two didn’t look bright enough to light a match.”

They started back down the lane towards Hogsmeade. “We need to talk to Hermione and Ron,” Harry said. “I wonder if they know anyone who can break a Fidelius.”

“You can’t break it, Harry, not with Veritaserum or Imperio. Not even Tom Riddle could find your parents’ house until Pettigrew told him.”

They continued to talk until they arrived back to the inn. It was well after midnight; Stan had closed up and gone home, and Kreacher and Winky were both asleep. Harry and Ginny went up to the flat and lit a fire; they sat in the love seat, talking and thinking, but soon they were kissing and caressing, and soon after that they were in bed with candles burning in the veela candlesticks outside the closed hangings. They slept soundly, well into the morning, and awoke, as they had so many other mornings, to the tempting aromas of bacon, porridge, and fresh coffee.

Harry sent McPherson to Diagon Alley as soon as he got out of bed, and the owl returned with Hermione and Ron’s reply shortly after they were finished eating. An hour later Harry and Ginny went out back behind the inn to wait, and in a few minutes Ron and Hermione Apparated.

They started across the field while Harry told them about last night’s escapade. The trek didn’t seem as long in the daylight, and soon they were standing in the little crossing where the lane met the path. There were no houses in sight, not along the lane or across the fields. The nearest trees were about half a mile away.

“And she just kind of faded away?” Ron asked while Hermione walked a few yards on the path to their left.

“Right,” Harry replied. “I never saw anything like it, but then I’ve never tried to follow someone whose house was protected by a Fidelius.”

“I can’t think of any other explanation,” Hermione said, returning to the lane; she shaded her eyes and looked across the fields. “You didn’t hear a pop, and she wouldn’t use a Portkey unless she wanted to run the risk of the Ministry finding out.” She turned to Ron. “Have you done anything with the Fidelius in class yet?”

Ron shook his head. “No way. It’s so complicated, they made it a whole separate unit. But . . .” He thought for a moment. “Bill has used it a lot. I’ll bet he could tell us something.”

“Maybe you can go see him later today,” Hermione suggested to Harry.

Harry’s brow creased. “Maybe. We’re visiting Neville and Keesha later. I could see Bill tomorrow evening, if he’s free.”

“Hey, I heard Neville’s going to Herbology school,” Ron enthused. “That means every bloke in our year is in some kind of program—” He stopped in mid-sentence and looked guiltily at Harry, and then at Hermione.

Harry scowled. “That’s right, mate, everyone except me. Leave it alone, will you?” He turned away and jammed his hands into his jeans pockets. Ginny glared at Ron.

“Sorry,” Ron muttered. “I was warned not to talk about that—” he shot a quick glance at Hermione “—but my big mouth . . .”

Harry turned back. “Forget it. I’m getting used to it.”

Ginny spoke quickly. “So what do we do now? Is there any point in following Turquoise again?”

“Probably not,” said Ron, relieved to have the subject changed, “but this is making me think about something you said a while ago, Harry. Where did you say she worked before she came to Hogsmeade?”

“In a restaurant in York. Rosmerta told me. Why?”

Ron thought for a moment. “Well, the names of the escaped Death Eaters are starting to leak out, and one of them is from a place called Dringhouses. It’s a village just outside York where a few wizarding families live.”

“There’s probably hundreds of wizarding families around York,” Hermione said. “It’s a mathematical probability that someone would be a Death Eater.”

“Yeah, but this one’s last name is Parkinson, as in Pansy.”

“My top candidate for a facial decoration,” Ginny said darkly. “If I ever get a chance . . .”

Harry shrugged. “She’s definitely not my favorite person, but I don’t see what her connection is to Turquoise Southeby.”

Ron glanced at Hermione; he seemed a little flustered. “Well, maybe nothing. It’s just something I learned in the program.”

“Well, what is it?” Harry asked. “Look, mate, you don’t have to apologize to me about what you’re doing. Just tell us.”

“Um, they’ve been teaching us to look for coincidences. I know this one seems stupid,” he added hastily. “I guess Pansy couldn’t have anything to do with Turquoise. Forget it. They probably never met in their lives.” Ron’s face had gone pink,

“Does anyone know what Pansy is doing now?”

“I’d have to do some digging, but the Ministry might not have any information on her unless she’s done something naughty.”

They all chuckled; Harry took his hands from his pockets and took Ginny’s hand. “It’s nice out here, you know,” he said, looking around at the open fields. “Very peaceful.”

As they walked back to Hogsmeade, Ginny wondered about Harry’s reaction to Ron’s mention of Neville and his other classmates. Harry was still holding her hand as he described to Ron the problems he was having with his beverage supplier. She glanced past them and caught Hermione’s eye. They looked at each other for a moment, and Ginny could see that Hermione was also wondering about Harry and the inn.


	23. Inn and Out

Ron and Hermione returned to Diagon Alley and Harry and Ginny went to meet Keesha at Hogwarts. She escorted them to her home in Birmingham where Neville was waiting. Keesha’s mother packed a picnic basket, and the four walked to a city park about a mile away. They sat under a large tulip tree and plunged into the food. Mrs. Baker had sent along a variety of bean and pasta salads, bread, chopped vegetables, and fruit.

“She’s into healthy stuff, vegetarian,” Keesha said with a grimace. “I have to get all my meat and good desserts at Hogwarts. When my parents came for the memorial I was afraid she would say something about what they served for lunch.”

Harry was unsure at first how Neville would react to him, but Neville never mentioned the incident in Hogsmeade, and after a few minutes Harry was able to forget and relax. It was good to get away from the inn and Hogwarts with Ginny; sitting under a tree in the early fall sunlight reminded him of last summer, when neither one of them had a care in the world and they wandered around the countryside like free ghosts, and everything was beautiful. Ginny looked very pretty in brown pants and a matching jacket with a flowery blouse; he could see the chain of his locket around her neck, and she smiled and touched it when she noticed him looking at her.

Neville waxed eloquent about the classes he would be taking at the College of Herbology. It was in the center of Lancaster near the old cathedral. His flat was over a Muggle bakery, and Keesha laughingly predicted he would end up as fat as Professor Slughorn.

“Not likely,” said Neville, smiling at her. “We’ll be out in the field most of the time. In fact they do a lot of collecting around the Black Lake and the Forbidden Forest.”

The weather was a little cool and breezy, and the sun kept going in and out of clouds. After they finished eating they walked around the park and Neville identified all the flowers and other plants.

“Professor Sprout is big on knowing everything, not just magical plants. She says you never know when you might discover something new.”

At the center of the park was a small pond, and they watched children playing with toy boats while their parents sat on benches and chatted. The boats seemed to move magically by themselves, until Harry explained that the children were aiming small boxes that sent wireless signals to tiny motors in the boats.

“I’d say that was magic,” said Keesha. “It’s invisible and it makes the boats do what the kids want. _Mobilinavis_ ,” she laughed.

“My dad collects junk like that,” Ginny said. “He can never make them work like Muggles do, so he ends up putting a spell on them. It’s all the same, if you ask me.”

As they watched, a young child pointed to her boat which was dead in the water in the middle of the pond. Her father and a few other parents came over; he tried fiddling with the signaling device but the boat wouldn’t move. Harry took out his wand, waved it, and the boat began moving in widening circles as the Muggles gaped. The father looked up at the sky and peered around the pond, but paid no attention to the four teenagers standing a few yards away, one of whom was holding a small stick. The boat soon reached the bank, and the girl retrieved it; the parents went back to their benches with another topic to talk about.

“See,” Harry grinned as they walked away, “it’s not the same. Magic is better.”

“What a talent you are,” Ginny laughed. “And modest, too. That little girl will never know that a wizard rescued her boat.”

They wandered around the park for another hour, then returned to Keesha’s house and sat at a large kitchen table with her parents who asked Harry polite questions about his adventures last year. Mrs. Baker insisted on sending them back to Hogsmeade with packets of her surprisingly tasty home-made veggie biscuits, and Harry and Ginny arrived at the inn not hungry at all. They went upstairs to the flat and sat in the love seat in front of a crackling fire.

“Let’s not do anything else this weekend,” Harry said between long, sensuous snogs. Ginny was in his lap, and one of his arms held her, leaving the other free to roam. At first Ginny’s response was a simple “Mmm,” but soon her demands became specific and her pretty brown outfit ended up next to her on the love seat. They rolled off the seat onto the rug, where Harry satisfied her requests.

On Sunday morning they decided to stay at the inn and not go see Bill. Ginny sent Bailey off to Shell Cottage with a note and she returned bearing an invitation from Fleur for dinner next Saturday, and a postscript from Bill that answered Ginny’s question about the Fidelius by saying it was too complicated to put in a short letter.

The day passed exactly as Harry wanted, just himself and Ginny with the outside world excluded. Stan, Kreacher, and Winky handled everything downstairs while Harry handled everything upstairs, and when the time finally came for Ginny to leave, Harry felt totally mellow about everything, even the inn. They walked back to Hogwarts and again met Keesha and Neville in the entrance hall. Three other seventh-year couples also wandered in just before nine o’clock. Mr. Filch slammed the oak doors closed behind Harry and Neville, and this time Neville did return to the inn with Harry.

As they approached they heard shouts from inside, and Harry hurried into the dining room. Stan was behind the bar with a stricken look on his face. Kreacher was standing near the kitchen door, which was ajar with Winky’s head poking out; the two house-elves also looked frightened. The customers, more than twenty, were all standing at their tables, except for two: a stout witch and a wizard who appeared to be her husband were at the bar. Her pointed hat was askew and she looked a little tipsy as she unsteadily waved a bottle of Potio Vitae under Stan’s nose. Her husband, short but just as stout, stood uncertainly behind her, trying to pull her away from the bar.

Stan saw Harry, and a look of relief replaced one of panic. Harry walked to the bar with Neville right behind. “What’s going on?” he asked Stan.

The witch, who was glaring at Harry, shoved the bottle at him. “Here’s what’s going on!” she shouted. “You’re trying to kill me! Look!”

She held the bottle up, and Harry could see a dark shape floating inside. His insides lurched, and he looked at Stan. The witch pushed the bottle into Harry’s face and he put his hand up.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, there was a bad shipment, I thought we had pulled out all the bad ones, but—”

“But you missed one!” she screamed; her husband put his hand on her shoulder but she pushed it away. “Don’t try to deny it! This is outrageous! I’m going to report you to the Ministry, there will be consequences, Mr. Potter, consequences!” She turned to her husband. “Hercules, take me home, I’m going to be ill. Mr. Potter, you have not heard the last of this.”

She pushed past Harry, bumped against Neville knocking him into the bar, and stormed out. Her husband mumbled something to Harry and rushed after her.

Harry looked around; everyone in the room was staring at him. “What happened?” he said to Stan.

“We missed a case,” he said in a shaky voice. “There was one in the kitchen with the old bottles, and Winky gave one of them to Kreacher when he went to get the order for them two.” He nodded towards the door, which the departing couple had left open; Neville went over and closed it.

“And of course that’s the one that had the dead rat. Just my luck.” He turned to the rest of the diners, who had returned to their seats. “I’m sorry, folks,” he said in a loud voice. “We overlooked a case of Potio Vitae that had—that was contaminated. We’re throwing out every bottle from that case. We already returned several dozen, and we’ve been told that what we kept is okay. And everyone gets a free drink.”

A buzz of conversation followed, and Tony called out, “Thanks, Harry!” from the other end of the room. Harry turned to Stan. “Double-check what’s in the storeroom, and I’ll check the kitchen.”

Winky and Kreacher watched as he approached the kitchen door; Kreacher stepped aside and followed Harry in. Winky retreated to her stove and looked at Harry apprehensively; she was holding a ladle.

“Is Harry Potter angry with Winky? If he is, then Winky will punish herself.” She raised the ladle to her head.

“Winky!” Harry shouted. “No! I forbid you to punish yourself!”

This command seemed to perplex the elf, and Harry realized that he may have posed a dilemma for her. Her instinct was to punish herself if she disobeyed or harmed her master, which she apparently believed she had. But now, if she did punish herself it would also be disobedience and deserving of more punishment. Harry put his hand to his forehead to keep these thoughts from making him dizzy.

“Besides,” he said, “it wasn’t your fault. I didn’t check in the kitchen and I didn’t tell you about the rats.”

Winky looked relieved, and lowered the ladle. “Harry Potter is a kind master, if sometimes forgetful.” She hung the ladle on a hook next to the stove. “There is no more bottles of that drink in Winky’s kitchen. Kreacher has taken them all away.”

Harry sighed and went back into the dining room. Conversations were at their normal level, and several customers were chugging bottles of Potio Vitae or butterbeer, and everyone seemed content. He told Stan there were no more bottles of the drink in the kitchen, but Stan still looked shaken by the incident, and Harry decided to stay with him instead of going upstairs. He sat at the bar with Neville.

“Now I see what you have to deal with,” Neville said. “This is a lot tougher than identifying shrubs in the Forbidden Forest.”

“I’d rather be in the Forest than here. There you only have to worry about centaurs and giant spiders.”

“That woman was ridiculous. But, you know, I don’t even like that drink.” He pointed to a bottle of Potio Vitae sitting on the bar. “They say it’s very popular, but I can’t see why.”

Harry chuckled. “You’re not a redhead, so it must be that you don’t have any Muggle grandparents.” He laughed at Neville’s puzzlement. “None of the Weasleys like it, so someone joked that it’s because they have red hair. I don’t think that’s it, though. It has to do with Muggle blood.”

Neville looked skeptical and shrugged. “Maybe. Well, I have to be getting home. I hope you don’t have any more problems like tonight.” He said goodbye to Stan, and Harry walked him to the door and watched him Disapparate.

It was after midnight when Harry wearily opened the door to his flat. A pile of letters was stacked neatly on the mantel, but only McPherson was on the perch. Harry riffled through them; in the one on top, Ginny wrote that she hoped everything was okay, and she was going to bed. She asked him to send an owl right away if anything was wrong, but if not, to send one first thing in the morning.

Harry was disappointed and a little peeved that his own stupidity had cost him a night of long-distance entertainment with Ginny. He took the stack of owls into the bedroom and got in bed with them, reading the jokes, gossip, and suggestive comments several times. Finally, he took the Bouquedelle from its drawer in the nightstand, put it to his lips, and fell asleep with it in his hand and Ginny’s scent in his dreams.

In the morning Harry sent McPherson with a message to Ginny describing the incident with the dead rat. He followed it with an angry letter to Jake Sipper and took it to the post office, but there at the door he almost turned around and went back to the inn because Turquoise was standing at a section of cubbyholes, sorting mail. She looked around as Harry came in; she was wearing tight jeans and a loose fitting blouse, open at the neck. She did not smile, as she usually did when she saw him.

She seemed concerned, and Harry realized that he was scowling. “Harry, how are you?”

“Fine,” he said, trying to rearrange his face; this was the last person he wanted to know about his problems. “I have a letter for Jake Sipper, Sipper’s Beverage and Tea Emporium. It’s in London, down on the East End, I think.”

“Oh, I know Mr. Sipper,” Turquoise said breathlessly. She reached up and pulled her hair back, which caused her blouse to tighten around her bust. “He comes to The Three Broomsticks sometimes. There was a problem with the drinks he sent you, wasn’t there?”

Harry shook his head. “No,” he said curtly. “Just send this, please.”

“Whatever you want, Harry.” Turquoise curtseyed and turned with a smile. She walked slowly, swaying her hips, through a door into the owlery, and reemerged a moment later with a large Tawny owl on her shoulder and three buttons of her blouse unbuttoned. “He’s big and fast,” she breathed, batting her eyes. She blinked several times and set the owl down on the counter. It also blinked, and for a brief second Harry almost laughed when it and the witch were blinking in unison.

Turquoise noticed Harry’s quick smile and leaned on the counter, her breasts threatening to cascade out of her blouse. “He’ll be back with an answer in a couple of hours, at the most. It’s twenty-five Knuts. Is that okay, Harry?”

“Sure, it’s fine. Thanks.” Harry paid her and watched as she tied the parchment to the owl’s leg and carried it to the window. The bird took off, and Harry turned and walked to the door. He stopped when Turquoise called after him.

“Harry, I heard about Jessica Purloin, you know, the witch who yelled at you last night. She was in here this morning, just a couple of minutes ago. She sent an owl to the Ministry of Magic. I thought you’d like to know.”

Harry’s scowl returned. “Yeah, I . . . Thanks, Turquoise, I appreciate that.”

She beamed and breathed. “Any time, Harry. I’m here to serve you.” He nodded and left.

Harry’s anger built as he trudged back to the inn. He wasn’t concerned about getting into trouble with one of the Ministry bureaucracies; it had been an accident, and no harm had been done. But if he did get a visit or even just an owl from some overzealous official who saw a chance to gain some notoriety by persecuting Harry Potter, there would be bad publicity and a big stink to deal with.

Turquoise’s performance had not helped his mood, and by the time he reached the inn he was boiling. He slammed the dining room door behind him, and both Stan and Kreacher jumped; Kreacher was sitting on a bar stool and almost fell off. Harry glared at Stan who was polishing the mirror behind the bar.

“How many times do you have to do that?” he yelled. “It’s clean! Go check the PV, I don’t want to see anymore goddamn rats!”

Stan looked at him in shock, and Kreacher slid off the stool and backed away towards the kitchen, his mouth working wordlessly and his bat-like ears quivering. Harry looked from one to the other, and his anger evaporated. He slumped into a chair and put his hand over his eyes.

“Oh, damn, I’m sorry. Stan, I—I’m sorry. I just found out that bitch last night complained to the Ministry.” He looked up at his barkeep. “This is driving me insane.”

Stan glanced at Kreacher and stepped away from the mirror. “You’re right, ‘Arry, I do clean this thing a lot. It’s just something to do.”

Harry stood. “It’s not you, Stan, it’s me. Just go back to whatever you were doing. You too, Kreacher. I’m sorry I frightened you.” He turned and went out the front door and around to the back; he wanted to go up to the flat, but he did not want to face Winky. Upstairs, he slammed the door behind him, punched the wall—putting a large dent in it—and went into the bedroom.

He sat on the bed, not knowing what to do with himself. He hated the inn. It was nothing but trouble, but not the kind of trouble he could deal with by waving his wand. All it gave him was an agitated brain and knots in his stomach. He wished Ginny could leave Hogwarts; then they could live like normal people in a normal house and have a normal life, something that would be a pleasantly new experience for him.

Maybe he could find a job for Stan someplace and just walk away from this. But what about Tony and George and Rosmerta, and Winky and Kreacher? Why all of a sudden did he feel like he had obligations to everyone? After he destroyed Riddle, there had been a few loose ends to tie up—their lost tent, for example—but by the next day no one expected anything from him. Now, if he abandoned the inn he would also be abandoning all the people who had helped him, including a dozen members of Dumbledore’s Army.

He was trapped, at least until Ginny was done at Hogwarts. If he sold the inn then, everyone would know he was doing it because he and Ginny wanted to start their lives together; he wouldn’t be running away from anything. The question was, how was he supposed to last until then? He absolutely needed Ginny to be able to do it; that was a certainty. But could he do it if he saw her only once during the week and on weekends? Over the summer he had become so used to being with her all the time that two days without her seemed like an interminable separation.

He got up and went back into the parlor. McPherson was gazing at him from the perch next to the casement window; it could have been his imagination, but Harry thought the owl was looking at him askance, not totally sure about trusting him. Harry looked at the hole in the wall next to the door and understood; he took out his wand and repaired it, then went over and stroked McPherson’s back. “I’m sorry, old boy, I lost my temper. Can you take another letter to Ginny?”

But Ginny didn’t receive it until two hours later, just before lunch. She had just returned to her room from Herbology and sat on her bed reading it. It was not the news she wanted to hear. That morning, McGonagall and Sprout had assigned major research projects, and both had emphasized the importance to their N.E.W.T. students of taking their assignments utterly seriously. Classes at this level should be considered as just below professional grade, the Headmistress had said, and if they were serious about getting on with their careers, they needed to buckle down.

And before that, the whole Quidditch team had cornered her at breakfast. They wanted to get started. They all recognized that the team had weaknesses; the Slytherin match was less than two months away and none of them wanted to lose. Ginny agreed to start practices this week, and to get Dennis together with Ron on Saturday. She didn’t think it would be a problem if Harry came to watch; it would even be a chance for the two of them to fly together, which they had not done for more than a month.

But Ginny was apprehensive about Harry’s reaction to getting less of her time, especially since it looked like the inn was going to continue throwing problems up in his face. Dead rats and dead weasels, ministry investigations, Dark Marks . . . She wished she could make it all go away; she wished she and Harry could be together up in his wonderful flat and make love all day.

She had never dreamed, during those years of waiting and wondering, that she could feel this close to anyone, that she could love someone this much. Harry was in her heart the same way her family was. But, just as she had always had to defend herself against being overwhelmed by her brothers, she knew that she had to do the same with Harry. His needs were intense, and it worried her that he might not recognize the danger of being devoured by the fire-breathing dragon of their love. He had no experience in embracing the total love that someone was giving him, yet at the same time keeping his own love from becoming an obsession. And she was afraid it was happening.

She could not solve all his problems, especially where the inn was concerned. And she could not tell Harry what to do with his life. She knew as well as everyone else that he would never be happy as an innkeeper. He was so set on it, though, and it had been such a wonderful gift, and Harry had done it so perfectly, that she couldn’t help loving it.

Ginny suddenly looked up into the mirror over her dresser and saw her reflection next to the photo of Harry. Her train of thought had led her to a conclusion she did not expect: Ginny Weasley was stuck in the Hog’s Head Inn as much as Harry Potter was. If the inn was a problem, it was a problem for both of them.

She looked at the pile of textbooks teetering on her dresser, and at the Firebolt leaning against the wall next to it, two realities staring down the fantasy of a snug love nest in the flat. It scared her. She could never retreat behind the closed hangings of their four-poster and tell the rest of the world to go away; that would end up destroying their love. But rejecting that choice meant that she had to tell Harry to deal with his problems; she could do no more than support and defend him, but _he_ had to do the heavy lifting.

She heard the school clock chime twelve; it was lunchtime. She looked at McPherson, waiting patiently on Bailey’s perch, sighed, and began to write.

 

 

 

 

> _My darling Harry,_
> 
> _It was awful for that witch to report the rat to the Ministry. I agree with you, though, that nothing will come of it. It wasn’t your fault that the bottle was contaminated, and she didn’t drink any of it. She was overreacting and had no business reporting you._
> 
> _So try not to worry about it. I know that’s easy for me to say. I wish I was there to show you how much I care for you, and how much I wish your problems would go away. If all these bad things keep happening, I will always be here to help you and to show you how much I love you._
> 
> _Maybe you could send an owl to Saliyah and tell her what happened. She will know that it’s all ridiculous and won’t let some half-wit in the Magical Law Enforcement office do anything stupid._
> 
> _I will be very busy with schoolwork and Quidditch practice this week. When I get back to my room later tonight I will send Bailey to you with a message telling you how much I love you._
> 
> _Your beloved Ginny_

After she sent McPherson off with the letter, Ginny felt dispirited, unsettled. She wanted to be with Harry, but she needed to study. If she started to fall behind, she would have a hard time catching up, and that would make it even more difficult to spend time with him. Reluctantly, she got up and went down to the Great Hall.

She spent two hours after lunch immersed in advanced Transfiguration textbooks, and afterwards went back upstairs to her Defense Against the Dark Arts class. She let her mind wander during Professor Pester’s interminable and irrelevant lecture on Dark Arts during the Muggle Middle Ages—Luna would tell her if there was anything worthwhile in it—and thought about Harry. Was he moping up in the flat, wondering if her letter meant that she was leaving it for him to deal with alone? Was that what she actually meant?

As soon as Pester droned to a stop and dismissed them Ginny raced up to her room, but there was no owl waiting for her. That was worrisome; Harry had always answered quickly, especially when he was upset. She debated breaking a rule and going into Hogsmeade before dinner, but that would mean that she _was_ running to his rescue. She didn’t know what to do, and her own frustration built.

At dinner Ginny felt distracted again; she couldn’t pay attention to the twins’ chatter about Transfiguring teacups, and she cut Jimmy off when he asked about the Quidditch practice she had scheduled for Wednesday afternoon. In an agitated state of mind, she went outside onto the lawn after dinner and walked down to the lake. Without admitting to herself what she was doing, she sat under a tree and, when dusk fell, walked along the lake to the castle gates. She slipped through and into the shadows of the trees lining the lane, cut into the woods past the Shrieking Shack and onto the High Street near Honeydukes.

Harry was sitting at the bar and looked up when Ginny came in. He slid off the stool with a broad smile and hugged her. “What are you doing here? Did they let you come?”

Ginny nodded to Stan who was polishing the counter, and he smiled. There were only four customers, but Ginny froze when she saw Turquoise at a table along the wall; she was alone and stared coolly back as she sipped a firewhiskey.

“Let’s go upstairs,” Ginny said to Harry. He led her out into the kitchen, and Ginny made sure that Southeby noticed them leave. Winky glanced at them from the sink but said nothing; Ginny thought that the house-elf’s expression was not as welcoming as it usually was, but maybe that was because Ginny was just unfamiliar with house-elves and their moods. When they got up to the flat Harry took her in his arms and kissed her.

“I’m so glad you came,” he said as she leaned her forehead against his chest. “It’s been nutters here.” He rubbed her back and his hands slipped down to her hips and he pulled them against himself.

“Harry, no, not now. We have to talk. Please.” She walked to the love seat, sat, and smiled at him. “Why don’t you start a fire, that’ll be cozy.”

“Okay.” He took his wand out and in a few seconds a small fire was burning. He sat next to Ginny; she took his hand and for a few minutes they were silent. She started to speak but Harry cut across her.

“Gin, I can’t keep her from coming here. She hasn’t done anything. If she did, I would toss her out.”

Ginny put her hand on his lips. “Harry, it’s not Turquoise Southeby. I don’t give a damn about her. It’s us. It’s this inn. If all you’re getting out of it is trouble, then leave it. You have enough gold to do anything you want.”

“It’s not the gold. What I want is to be with you. Here.” He waved his hand around the parlor. “This is our home.”

“Love, it’s a wonderful place, it’s perfect for us, except—”

“If it’s perfect, why do you want me to leave? Where should I go? Ginny, I need you, I love you. I . . .” He stopped and looked at the fire.

“I love you too, so much.” She took his hands and he turned back to her. “Harry, what do you want? I mean, what do you want to do after I leave school? Do you want to get married and have children and raise them here? Because I don’t. I mean,” she took his dismayed face in her hands, “I don’t want to raise a family over an inn.”

“What’s wrong with an inn? You meet people; it’s the real world. Okay, it’s not the Burrow, but it’s not leaning in twenty different directions like it’s about to topple over.” He pulled away with an irritated look and folded his arms across his chest. After a few seconds he looked at her. “I’m sorry, that was stupid. I love the Burrow, you know that.”

“I know, and I know that you’re having a bad time here. That’s why I came.” She snuggled closer. “It doesn’t make sense not to be happy. All we have to look forward to is each other, which makes me very happy.”

“Ginny . . .” Harry put his arms around her and they held each other. He began kissing her, and glanced at the bedroom. “So, shall we . . .”

“Harry, I wasn’t thinking about that. I need to be going, I’ll probably get into trouble for being out.”

“Oh, no! You should get back!” He jumped up, pulled her up, and held her for a moment. “Thanks for coming, it really made me feel better.”

‘I’m glad.” She kissed him, and they went downstairs. Winky was sitting on a stool at the counter, and this time she smiled at Ginny. Harry told Stan he would be back soon. He made a show of putting his arm around Ginny’s waist and escorting her to the door as Turquoise watched impassively. They walked out and Harry kept his arm around her through the village, down the lane, and up the drive to the castle. They climbed the steps and the door opened to reveal Argus Filch standing there, a triumphant leer on his be-jowled face. Ginny swore.

“Spending a little time out of the castle, are we?” He held up a parchment. “It looks like a detention to me, but you’ll be quite familiar with it, seeing as you’re spending so much time with Mr. Potter.” He turned his leer on Harry.

“Harry, no!” Ginny pushed him back as he was about to take a step towards Filch. “I’ll be fine. Ignore him, he’s not worth it.”

Harry glared at Filch, whose grin had grown more triumphant. Harry pulled Ginny to the side so that Filch couldn’t see them and embraced her. “I’m sorry, Gin, I love you.” They kissed until Filch stepped outside and stood in the doorway, staring at them. Harry shot him one more dirty look and walked away.

Ginny strode past Filch who waved the detention notice at her with a satisfied smirk. She snatched it from his hand and read it as she climbed the marble stairs to the common room. She would have to report to Filch’s office on Saturday morning immediately after breakfast, and remain there until she finished whatever chores he gave her. She balled the notice in her hand and threw it angrily into the fireplace when she entered the common room.

There were about a dozen students studying and talking, but everyone fell silent and stared as she stalked across the room. Ginny didn’t notice, however; she now had a stack of problems, and being the target of everyone’s morbid curiosity was not one of them.

Nor was this detention the worst problem. Her talk with Harry had accomplished exactly the opposite of what she wanted. She had gone there hoping to convince him that he had to make a hard decision, but she had let the moment slip away. She had asked him what he wanted to do with the inn, with his life, with _their_ lives, and he had not answered.  Instead, he was now convinced more than ever that, whatever horrible thing befell the inn, Ginny would come to his rescue.

How could she have let that happen? She had succumbed to the warmth and closeness she always felt with Harry; thank goodness she hadn’t given in to his lust, or else she would have got back even later, maybe not until morning. She slammed the door behind her as she entered her room and fell on her bed; her roommates weren’t there, so she left the hangings open.

This was a disaster. Now she would have to reschedule Dennis’s lesson with Ron to Saturday afternoon after the detention, so there went half the weekend down the drain. Tonight she had lost an entire evening of study time, which meant that she would have to work twice as hard and stay up twice as late studying for the rest of the week. She really needed to get back to the library now, but her motivation had bottomed out; she did not want to look at a book tonight.

She heard scratching at the window, and for a brief moment considered ignoring it. But she thought of Harry sitting alone in his room waiting to hear from her, and she got up. McPherson was there with a Honeydukes package tied to his leg. When she let him in he clucked a greeting and perched on her arm. When he lifted his leg he also gave her ear a nibble, and Ginny giggled in spite of herself.

“Your owner drives me nutters, you know that, don’t you?” McPherson blinked and ducked his head; Ginny laughed. She opened the package and three Chocoballs rolled into her hand.

Ginny gave a sigh, popped one into her mouth, and closed her eyes as the strawberry cream squirted down her throat; Harry did know what made her happy. She sent McPherson back with a love note, put on her nightgown, and climbed into bed. In a few minutes she felt the magical warmth telling her that Harry was looking at her on the Marauder’s Map, and she fell asleep, a little less agitated than a few minutes ago.

Unfortunately, in the days that followed Ginny did not feel calm very often. Her teachers continued to pile on work, and she missed Harry at lunch on Wednesday because Professor Sprout kept the class outside for an extra hour and had the house-elves bring food to them down by the lake. On Thursday Professor Pester sprang a quiz, and afterwards everyone in the class except Luna agreed that the test had been completely unfair because it only covered the topics Pester had lectured about, and everyone—except Luna—had pretty much slept through them all. On Friday Pester passed the tests back, confirming their fears, and he gave everyone except Luna additional lengthy parchments to write, due on Monday.

“Either you take N.E.W.T.-level work seriously, or you take someone else’s class,” he said, glaring at them.

Ginny didn’t know when she would have time to write the parchments; she was starting to feel overwhelmed. She vowed to have the talk with Harry that evening, the one she should have had on Monday; she _had_ to make him understand. Her detention was going to disrupt all her plans for the weekend, and she could not afford to let it happen again. Beginning on Monday, she vowed, Harry would have to accept that.


	24. Descent

Harry was very solicitous, almost apologetic, when he picked Ginny up on Friday afternoon. He was angry at Filch and at himself, as though it was his fault that Ginny had gotten detention. Ginny wouldn’t let him take the blame, and they had a humorous argument about it as they walked to the inn.

But in bed, when Harry began to make love to her, Ginny knew that she was holding back. In her mind was the speech she had rehearsed: he must decide about the inn, or else it could drag them both down. She had planned to wait until Sunday, after they had spent two nights and a day together, but her intentions were being ignored by her feelings.

Harry noticed; she had never responded less than totally, less than with her whole body and soul. “What’s wrong?” he asked. He rolled off and put his hand on her face. “It’s bothering you, isn’t it? Don’t worry, Gin, just get it over with and that will be the end of it.”

“It’s not the detention.” Ginny took his hand and kissed it. She looked into his eyes and involuntarily touched the locket lying between her breasts. Harry followed with his own hand and began caressing her, moving his finger in small circles. She closed her eyes, but opened them and reached up to his face, bringing his lips to hers. “Harry, I love you,” she whispered.

His face was over hers, only inches away. “What’s bothering you? Tell me.”

Tears welled up. “Harry . . .”

Harry abruptly sat up and stared at her. “Oh my God! You’re not . . . are you . . .?”

Ginny burst into laughter and pulled him back. They rolled over until she was on top. “No, I am not pregnant.” She grinned wickedly down at him. “And, to use my brother’s elegant expression, I don’t give a rat’s ass about detention.” Her grin faded. “I mean, I wish I didn’t have it, but—” The rest of her sentence was cut off by Harry’s kiss, and this time Ginny held nothing back.

Later they lay awake in the dark after the candles had flickered out. Harry ran his hand down her side, tracing the curves and the softness. “So, what was bothering you?”

“You have to make a decision about the inn,” Ginny blurted before she could think. She had been half-asleep, but her own words woke her. Harry’s hand stopped and she could feel him tense. She sat up on her elbow. “Harry, listen to me. What good is this place if it makes you unhappy, if it changes you. I can see it, it’s happening.”

“Do I really look unhappy?” He rolled onto his back and stared at the shadowed canopy. “Blimey, Ginny, if this is unhappy I can’t wait to see what happy is like.”

“You know what I mean. Of course I’m not talking about right now.” She put her hand on his shoulder, but he turned his head away. “You’ve blown up at Neville and Stan, two people who would lie down in front of the Hogwarts Express for you. That’s not you. Harry, the inn is changing you and you don’t need to let it happen.”

He looked at her, and his voice rose as he spoke. “I never wanted anyone to lie down in front of a train for me. All I ever wanted was a damned normal life!”

He pushed the hangings aside and sat on the edge of the bed. Ginny moved quickly to sit next to him; she looked at him apprehensively, but he took her hand. “I’m sorry, I guess I did it again. But don’t you see? When I’m with you, everything is fine, life is beautiful. That’s why I want to be here.”

“Yes, it’s fine,” she said in a low voice that trembled. She stood and pulled him up. “Let’s go downstairs and have a good time. It’ll keep me from thinking about detention.”

Harry grinned. “I thought you didn’t give a rat’s ass.”

“Maybe I do.”

They dressed, and Harry embraced her before they went downstairs. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “Don’t be mad at me. I can’t stand that.”

“I’m not mad at you. But even if I was, it wouldn’t mean that I don’t love you.” He squeezed her again, and they went down and through the kitchen into the dining room.

There was a big crowd, including Keesha, Neville, and Luna. Ginny waved to them, but when she and Harry sat at their table, she suddenly felt the hairs at the nape of her neck stand and saw Turquoise at a table in the back with her two escorts, watching her and Harry.

Ginny turned to Harry and said in a low voice, “Has Southeby been coming all this time?”

Harry took a drink from his bottle of Potio Vitae and glanced around; he returned Turquoise’s smile with a blank face. “Yeah,” he said to Ginny, “she was here every afternoon and evening this week but she was never with anyone. All she does is sit there and drink firewhiskey.”

Ginny scowled at Southeby who looked away. “She’s up to something,” Ginny muttered, and put her hand on her wand.

“What are you doing?” Harry said, his forehead creasing. “I said she hasn’t done anything. She stares all the time, I’m used to it.”

Ginny sighed and let go of her wand. “There’s just something about her that’s not right. Look at how she’s dressed. No, wait!” she hastened to say as Luna, Keesha, and Neville turned to look; she sat back and frowned.

“She always dresses very provocatively,” said Luna as she smiled back at Southeby, who was watching them with her chin cupped on her hand. “She’s trying to seduce you, Harry.”

Harry’s eyes rolled and Ginny’s scowl deepened. “Let’s not talk about her, okay? She’s trash.”

“I thought you just said she’s up to something,” Harry said.

“Fine, she’s up to something. Let’s just drop it.”

“Why don’t you want to talk about it? If she’s up to no good, then let’s discuss it and then do something, like when we tried to follow her home.”

Ginny’s teeth clenched and she looked across the table at Keesha, away from Harry. “Okay, but can we do it later?”

Harry shrugged. “Sure, I was just asking.”

“Say, Ginny,” Neville said, “I heard you had your first Quidditch practice this week. How did it go?”

Ginny smiled, relieved that someone had changed the subject. “Okay. The Chasers need a lot of work, though. Demelza’s the only one who’s played before, so we’re not very coordinated. But it’ll come.”

“And Dennis?”

Ginny grimaced. “Yeah, well, Dennis also needs work. I’ll tell you, he’s making me nervous. He stopped absolutely nothing, zilch.”

They talked about Quidditch for another few minutes, but Harry sat silently. Finally Luna said, “Harry, you were always so knowledgeable about Quidditch. What do you think about your team this year?”

Harry had been slouched in his seat, fiddling with his bottle. Now he sat up. “It’s Ginny’s team. I don’t have anything to do with it. But she’s the best flyer in school and she has the fastest broom.” He grinned at her. “I think she would beat me out if I was still playing.”

Luna nodded solemnly. “That’s probably true. You’re out of practice and you don’t have your broomstick anymore.”

There was a thud under the table and Luna reached down and rubbed her leg. “You kicked me,” she said crossly to Keesha.

Harry just stared at Luna, but Ginny coughed loudly. “Does anyone want to eat? I’m hungry.” She beckoned to Kreacher who took their orders. They ate, but only Ginny, Keesha, and Neville talked; Harry sank into another slouch and ate almost nothing while Luna picked at her food and ignored everyone.

When the others finally left, Harry and Ginny went back up to the flat. Ginny went into the kitchen and sat at the small table. Harry lit a fire before joining her; Ginny watched him poke around in the small room for a minute, but then reached and took his hand. “You were quiet tonight. What’s on your mind? Did it bother you when Luna mentioned your broom?”

“Of course it bothered me.” Harry pulled his hand away. “My broomstick, Hedwig, almost getting killed . . . I don’t like to think about it.” He paused and sat heavily in the other chair and covered his eyes with his hand. “Oh, Merlin, I’m sorry. Why am I yelling at you? Luna is Luna, she says things . . . I’m sorry.” He looked at Ginny, and now she saw bewilderment in his eyes as well as frustration. She didn’t say anything, but came and sat in his lap; she knew what the reason for his gloom was, but she also knew he would not want to talk about it.

Harry buried his face in her hair. “I don’t know why I’m like this,” he said, his voice muffled. “I get angry and take it out on you. I hate myself.”

“Don’t.” She stroked his head. “I understand.”

They held each other for a long time, until Ginny led Harry into the bedroom where they made tender and comforting love.

# # # #

Manually repairing mops, brooms, and buckets, and counting cleaning supplies in a long series of dim, musty broom cupboards was not Ginny’s first choice of how to spend a Saturday morning. But the weather had turned cool and rainy, so at least she stayed dry. The rain stopped after lunch, although it remained overcast and blustery, and Dennis Creevey’s lesson with Ron didn’t go too badly. Ron only made a few cracks about Ginny’s detention, and he was remarkably patient with Dennis. Ginny, Demelza, Frances, and Meeta took turns attacking the goals, and after two hours Dennis had made small but noticeable progress.

Ron waited for Ginny to drop off her Quidditch robes and they went back to the inn, where Harry and Hermione were waiting. Harry had decided not to watch the lesson, and Ginny was a little disappointed; she had been looking forward to flying with him, but he didn’t seem very interested. Ron went upstairs and cleaned up before joining them in the dining room. Fleur had extended her dinner invitation to include Ron and Hermione, but had asked them not to arrive too early since Bill had to work and wanted to rest before dinner.

It was late afternoon and the dining room was empty. They sat at a table in the corner while Stan prepared the bar for the evening, and Kreacher shuffled in and out of the kitchen on sundry errands for Winky.

“He looks tired,” said Hermione as she watched the elf set tables.

“How old is he, anyway?” Ron asked. “Maybe he should retire.”

Ginny looked uneasily at Harry, who was leaning back in his chair with his hands clasped behind his head. He considered Ron for moment. “I’d have to replace him. It never occurred to me that I’d need a waiter, you know.” He shook his head and muttered, “A lot of things never occurred to me.”

“But it’s running so smoothly now,” Hermione said. “Stan really knows what he’s doing, and what Winky does in that kitchen is amazing. You hardly have to do anything, Harry.”

Harry cocked his head at her. “Are you suggesting that I let Kreacher retire and I should take his place?”

“What? Of course not. What are you talking about? Hire someone to replace him.”

Harry leaned forward and his chair set down with a loud thunk. “I don’t want to hire anyone else, okay? Kreacher is fine. He always looks tired, it’s the way he is.”

Hermione stared at him and glanced at Ginny. “He’s old, Harry, he can’t keep going forever.”

“All right! So he’s old!” Harry abruptly stood. “Isn’t it time to go?”

“What was that all about?” Ron asked Ginny as they walked outside while Harry talked to Stan about the evening’s schedule. “He seems awfully testy lately.”

“It’s this damn inn,” Ginny said bitterly. “He shouldn’t be here, he should be with you in the Auror program, but he’s too fucking stubborn to admit it. He yells at everyone, including me.”

Hermione took her arm. “Oh, Ginny, that’s awful. Is there anything we can do?”

Ginny shook her head. “If I try to talk to him, he bites my head off. Then he’s sorry, really sorry, but I don’t think he understands why he—why he does it.”

They stopped talking as Harry came out. “All set?” he said, and took Ginny’s hand. Ron took Hermione’s, and they Disapparated to the cliff next to Shell Cottage. Ron and Hermione walked towards the house, and Ginny started to follow, but Harry held her back. They stood watching the waves break on the sand.

“We had a great time here,” Harry said, putting his arm around her. “I wouldn’t mind living by the sea.”

Ginny looked at him; she could see the reflection of the whitecaps in his glasses and the eyes she loved so much blinking behind them. He smiled at her. “Let’s live near the sea.”

“Okay,” she said, biting her lip to keep it from trembling. They heard Fleur call and went to the house.

They ate dinner by the light of Fleur’s veela candelabra, and Ginny could sense a difference in Harry as the meal progressed. He told Fleur about his candlesticks, and laughed when Bill accused him of stacking the deck against poor, defenseless Ginny. Harry held her hand and Fleur smiled and poured more wine. She apologized to Harry for not having any Potio Vitae, but neither she nor Bill liked it, so they didn’t keep it in the house. After dinner they all crowded into the parlor where Bill lit a fire and they talked about Fidelius charms.

“You’ll never break it, Harry,” Bill said as he sipped a glass of sherry. “People have been trying ever since it was discovered, and that was a couple of hundred years ago. The only way you’ll find that house is if the Secret-Keeper tells you. And even then, _you_ won’t be able to tell Ginny or anyone else yourself. You’ll have to get the Secret-Keeper to tell her.”

“Ginny is convinced that Turquoise is up to no good,” Harry said, “and I agree. She’s a pain in the ass, but I can’t keep her out of the inn as long as she’s just sitting there, even if she is batting her eyes at me and dresses like a whore.”

“Zat is not normal,” Fleur frowned, but since even her frowns were beautiful, Harry and Ron both smiled at her. “She is doing somet’ing while she is making eyes at you, you can be sure of zat.”

“Almost every time I see her I feel like pulling my wand out,” Ginny said; she was sitting in an overstuffed chair and Harry was perched on the arm. “I can’t explain it, though, I just get this feeling that there’s something wrong.”

“Trust your instincts,” Bill said. “But I’m afraid I can’t help you more than to give advice. You’ll just have to keep watching her and hope she makes a mistake.”

“What if she’s Imperiused?” Ron asked.

“I would know that,” Harry replied, “just like I knew last year when Stan was Imperiused. You can’t miss it, there’s a look in their eyes like they’re not completely there.”

“Harry’s right,” said Hermione. “We use the Curse on each other at the Institute as part of our project, and if you know what you’re looking for you can always spot it.”

“And no one has ever seen this Turquoise woman look like that?” Bill said.

“Zen she is acting on her own,” said Fleur, “and she does not want anyone to know why, and zat is why she ‘as a Fidelius spell.”

Bill looked at Harry apologetically. “Sorry, mate, it looks like we can’t help you.”

Harry shrugged, but smiled at Fleur. “At least we got a superb dinner out of it. And I’d like to go for a walk on the beach.” He gave Ginny his hand and she got out of the chair. “See you all in a bit,” he smiled back at them.

They walked to the path down through the cleft and onto the beach. They took off their shoes and walked to the water’s edge where their toes sank into the cool, wet sand. The stars and moon were not out, so Harry lit his wand very low and planted it in the sand a few yards back from the water; he spread his cloak next to it and they sat and listened to the surf. Ginny leaned her head on his shoulder and he put his arm around her.

“This is perfect,” Harry said. The soft glow from the wand seemed to flicker like the candles in the veela candelabra. Ginny pushed him down and lay on top of him and his hands squeezed her. She kissed him deeply and moved her body on his, until Harry was moaning and pulling at her clothes. She put her own cloak on top of them and the wand continued to glow.

Later, they sat back-to-back, leaning against each other and tossing pebbles into the water. Harry did it awkwardly with his left hand, and Ginny teased him about his pathetic tosses. When they saw wand-light moving along the cliffs, Harry waved his, and soon Ron and Hermione joined them. The four sat talking quietly for almost an hour.

Back at Shell Cottage they bid farewell to Fleur and Bill, but before they went back outside to Disapparate, Bill stopped them. He put his arm around Fleur and grinned.

“We have an announcement,” he said as Fleur blushed. Bill kissed her, and turned to the others. “Fleur is pregnant. She’s going to have a girl, and she’ll be born right around the anniversary of the battle. You are the first to know.”

“Oh, Fleur!” Ginny squealed. “That’s the best news! I’m going to be an aunt, Aunt Ginny!” She threw herself at Fleur and they hugged, laughing. “Do you have a name yet?”

“No, not yet,” Fleur said, and gave Ginny a wet kiss on her cheek. “It depends on ze exact birt’ date. Zat is very important to veelas, so we will wait.”

“Congratulations,” Hermione beamed. “So, it’ll also be Uncle Ronald.”

“Uncle Ron. You and Mum are the only ones who can call me Ronald.”

Harry also gave Fleur a kiss, and they all shook Bill’s hand; Ginny gave him a huge hug and kiss. “We’ll be telling Mum and Dad tomorrow,” Bill said, “so don’t say anything yet.”

“Wow! Their first grandchild!” Ginny was bouncing on her toes in her excitement. “Oh, this is brilliant!” She kissed Fleur again and took Harry’s hand. He was also smiling, and Ginny pressed his hand in hers. “Let’s go back and celebrate!” she bubbled. They waved goodbye, and soon were back at the inn with Ron and Hermione.

They went up to the flat, but Harry went back downstairs and brought up butterbeers. “I’ll drink what you drink tonight,” he said as he set them up.

They crowded into the tiny kitchen, and after Harry poured four glasses, Ron raised his. “A toast to the first Weasley granddaughter.” He looked at Ginny. “Another girl. You must have broken the logjam. Now we’ll probably get only girls for a couple hundred years.”

“I certainly hope not,” Ginny said. “How would the name carry on?”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot. Well, some of us will have to have boys.”

Hermione’s eyebrows arched. “Some of you? Which ones?”

Ron laughed and pulled her into a kiss and raised his glass again. “To the Weasleys, boys and girls.” They clinked and drained their glasses. Harry poured more butterbeer, and they sat around the cramped table and laughed and drank until long after midnight.

Ron and Hermione finally left for Diagon Alley, and Harry went down to check the inn. He came back into the bedroom where the veela candlesticks were lit and Ginny was in bed, wearing only her locket. Harry stood gazing at her, and for minutes they did not speak or move. He undressed and lay down next to her, and when he touched her, Ginny thought she would burst from happiness.

They awoke very late on Sunday morning, and Ginny left for the library right after a quick breakfast; she had to spend most of the day trying to catch up with a half-dozen subjects. Harry kissed her goodbye outside the front door and went back into the dining room to see what was going on. He swore to himself when he saw that the only customer was Turquoise Southeby, sitting by herself at a table towards the back; it seemed to be the one she preferred now, since she had also been there last night when Harry had briefly looked in.

Stan was polishing the counter, moving his rag in large slow circles, glancing up at Turquoise every few seconds. He motioned to Harry with his head and led him into the storeroom behind the bar.

“She’s been sitting there for two hours, doing nothing,” Stan said in a low voice. “She bought a firewhiskey, but hasn’t drunk any of it yet. I don’t get her. She dresses like a cheap Soho pickup but spends a whole morning alone.”

Harry took a Potio Vitae from a case; it was a round bottle and he held it up to the light. “She’s mental,” he said, pulling out the cork. “As long as she doesn’t bother anyone, just let her be. I’d rather have a quiet nutter than a noisy problem.”

“She bothers _you_ , ‘Arry.”

Harry took a swig. “Not really. She bothers Ginny, and that bothers me, but we don’t have any grounds for chucking her out.” He drank the bottle down and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “That’s good.”

“Yeah, but ‘Arry, she’s giving the inn a reputation, if you take my drift. I’ve heard people talk about ‘er, especially when she bats those bedroom eyes at you.”

Harry sighed. “Okay, keep an eye on her. But I don’t think we can do anything.”

They left the storeroom and Turquoise obligingly smiled and waved at Harry. A few more customers had come in, and Harry noticed that they sat as far from her as possible. That didn’t necessarily mean anything, he reasoned; they might have sat where they did even if she wasn’t there. He went into the kitchen without acknowledging her and talked with Kreacher and Winky about the menu and what supplies he had to order. They were running short of a lot of staples, so Harry wrote down what the elves told him, took his ledger book from its drawer, and went back out into the dining room.

He set the ledger on a table at the very end of the room, behind Turquoise’s back, and opened it. He blinked several times at the columns and rows, trying to steel himself for the dreary task. He went down the rows looking for the items on Winky’s list, and calculated the costs. He came up with a total, then turned back a few pages and looked at the number at the bottom of the last column. He stared at it for a moment, then checked the cost of the supplies again, and slammed his palm down on the page and put his head in his hand.

Turquoise looked around. “Is something wrong, Harry?” He shook his head, but said nothing. “I’m good at figures, you know.” She touched her neckline with her finger. “It’s because I work at the Post, adding up all those Knuts and Sickles.”

“Thanks, Turquoise. I don’t have a problem with addition.”

“You must be quite good at it, I’m sure.”

“Thanks.” He shut the ledger and strode with it past her, back into the kitchen, waving Stan to follow. He set the ledger on a counter as Stan and the two elves watched him. “If we order everything on Winky’s list,” he said, “we’ll be a hundred and fifty Galleons in the red, and that’s without ordering anything that Kreacher needs or anything for the bar. I’ll have to take more gold out of my vault.” He passed his hand over his eyes. “I thought we were doing okay. Can anyone explain what happened?”

The three looked at each other, then at Harry. Kreacher shuffled forward a few steps and peered up with his bulging eyes. “My present master reminds me of my old masters, the Black family, rest in peace. The Black family had no sense for business—” his head twitched slightly as he said that “—so every enterprise the Black family attempted ended in failure.” He paused. “Forgive me, Master, Kreacher does not mean to criticize Harry Potter. Kreacher simply observes that none of the great wizards or witches knows anything about running a business.” He bowed and stepped back.

“Well, that’s interesting,” Harry said with a taut smile, “but it doesn’t really help.”

Kreacher bowed again. “Kreacher is sorry. Kreacher will try to help in any way he can.”

Harry turned to Stan. “Did we over-order? Are we paying too much?”

Stan shook his head. “I don’t think so. We ‘ave a three-day supply of drinks, and that’s about what we used to carry at The Leaky Cauldron. And we’re paying maybe twenty percent more than we did then, but that was seven years ago. I think we just aren’t charging enough.”

“Oh, brilliant. So we have to raise our prices after being in business less than a month.”

“We did have that shipment of bad PV that Sipper stuck us with,” Stan said hesitantly. “But that was only about thirty Galleons.”

“Well, that’s twenty percent of the hole we’re in. I guess there’s no helping it. I’ll figure out how much we have to bump everything up.”

Harry spent the rest of the day poring over the columns, trying to figure out what to do. The only place there was to lay out the ledger book and all the other paperwork he needed was at a table in the dining room. He debated whether to wait until after the inn closed, but that would mean a very late night and no long-distance games with Ginny after she went back to Hogwarts. He gritted his teeth, brought three bottles of Potio Vitae to the table, and tried to buckle down.

It didn’t help that Turquoise kept sniffing around him, offering her help and expressing concern whenever Harry grimaced over a particular sum or number. He tried to ignore her, but when she sat down at his table, his temper started to fray.

“Turquoise, just—” he began loudly, but it startled her, and Harry cut his anger off. “Please,” he said quietly, “I don’t need any help. Just . . . just have another drink, okay? It’s on the house.”

“Harry, that’s so kind of you,” she breathed, “but I’m not thirsty and—”

She stopped as Harry looked towards the door; Ginny was standing there, glaring. She strode towards them, and Turquoise jumped up and backed away.

“What are you doing here?” Ginny hissed at her; Harry had never seen her so angry, and he held up his hand and started to speak, but Ginny ignored him. “I told to you stay away from us.”

With one motion she reached for her wand and rammed it into Turquoise’s nostril. The witch’s head jerked back and she looked cross-eyed at the wand, her eyes wide with fright.

The room fell silent as all the customers turned to look. Ginny said, in a snarling whisper, “If I catch you whoring around here again I’ll blow your damn nose off. Now get out!” She pulled her wand from Southeby’s nose and shoved her. Turquoise stumbled over a chair, caught herself, and backed away, holding her nose with both hands. She stared at Ginny for a moment, then at Harry, then turned and walked out the door.

Ginny looked at Harry, put her wand away, pulled a chair out and sat.

“Why did you do that?” Harry asked angrily. “She wasn’t doing anything. I was telling her to leave me alone, you didn’t have to pull your wand on her.”

“Why are you defending her?” Ginny said loudly, but dropped her voice and leaned towards Harry. “She only wants one thing. Why won’t you kick her out? She’s a damned public nuisance.”

“I think _I_ can decide who to kick out.”

“What exactly do you mean by that?”

“I mean—” He sat back and once again passed his hand over his eyes. “I mean, I’m sorry.” He reached across the table to take her hand, but she kept hers at her sides. “Gin, it’s been a bad afternoon. I’ve been losing a lot of money and I have to raise my prices. Please. I said I’m sorry. Why do you let her do that to you? She’s nothing. You’re making her into an issue, and she’s not.”

After a moment Ginny took his hand, still resting on the table. “You’re right. There’s my famous temper, red hair and all. I’m sorry.”

Harry slammed the ledger shut. “Screw this, I’ll do it later. Are you hungry? How did the studying go?”

“It went fine. Harry, are you sure you don’t have to do this now?” She pointed to the ledger. “When will you do it?”

He shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll just take more gold out of Gringotts and everything will be fine. Let’s get something to eat.”

Ginny followed him into the kitchen. Winky ladled a thick onion soup into large bowls, covered them, and handed them to Harry. Ginny led the way upstairs and they went into the kitchen and sat.

“Mmm, this is good,” Ginny said after five minutes of silence. “She is quite a cook.” Harry didn’t answer, but kept eating. After a few more minutes, Ginny put her spoon down. “Harry, we just had a little spat, that’s all. People do that. My parents do it, and they’ve been married for decades. It’s okay to have arguments.”

“I know.” He also put down his spoon. “But for a minute I was really angry at you, and I don’t know why. Ginny . . .” His eyes were puzzled as he looked at her. “We had such a beautiful time yesterday. It was so peaceful at the cottage and down on the beach, and what you did there . . . You drove me even crazier than you usually do.”

Ginny smiled. “I like making you crazy.”

“Then why was I so angry when you chased Southeby out?” He chuckled. “That was quite a wand maneuver. Where did you learn it?”

“I made it up on the spot,” she grinned. “It could come in handy some day, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, as long as you don’t use it on me.”

“Don’t give me a reason,” she laughed.

They finished eating, went into the parlor, and when they sat in the love seat Ginny started kissing him, but stopped after a moment. “What is it?”

Harry shook his head. “The stupid inn, what else? I’m in debt, Ginny, and I don’t like it. I’m going to have to raise my prices, like I told you.”

Ginny moved away and leaned against the end of the seat. “Harry, I just spent six hours in the library, and I’m still at least two days behind in Potions and Herbology. If I fall behind again, I’ll start missing deadlines for projects, and I mean big projects. They could all start giving me detention, and then I’ll—”

“What the hell does that have to do with me?” Harry interrupted, anger once again in his voice.  He got up and stalked to the front window; McPherson squawked and backed away on his perch. Harry glared at the bird and turned back to Ginny.

She was also on her feet. “I’ll tell you what has to do with you. Last Monday I got an owl from you about yet another problem with this inn of yours. So I came here to talk, and because of that I lost a whole night of studying, plus I got detention. That’s what has to do with you.”

“Okay, I’m sorry.” Harry came and sat back down. “I shouldn’t have said that.” He looked up at her. “Sit?” He patted the seat next to him.

“We need to talk first. Something is wrong here. I don’t mean between us.” She tried to give him a reassuring smile. “I mean here at the inn. You need to—”

“Stop it! Ginny, I don’t want people telling me what to do. I just want . . .”

“What do you want, Harry?” Ginny came and sat next to him. “Because if I can give it to you without hurting us, then I’ll give it to you. But there are some things that only you can give yourself. If you want to keep this inn, you also have to keep the problems that come with it. Didn’t Rosmerta and George and Bill talk to you about running a business?”

Harry’s back stiffened. “Don’t lecture me about running a business.”

She stood up again and went to the mantel. Harry’s parents gazed at her from their portrait; she moved it slightly and they smiled. When she looked at Harry his lips were pressed together and he was staring at the photograph. “Okay,” Ginny said, “I’m sorry if it sounded like a lecture. You haven’t answered my question. What do you want?”

Harry bit his lip. “I want you.”

“You have me, love, you have me in every possible way there is to have someone. What do you want from yourself?”

“What does that mean? Why should I want something from myself?”

Ginny sighed. “I think you know what I mean. What do you want to _do_?”

Harry’s mouth tightened and he abruptly stood up. “I told you not to lecture me.” He strode to the bedroom, turned at the door and pointed at her. “People have been lecturing me all my life. Don’t you start.” He stepped into the bedroom and slammed the door shut behind him.

Ginny stared at the closed door. She started to walk towards it, but stopped. There were no sounds from behind it. She looked around the room, feeling lost, her eyes tearing, and wiped them with the back of her hand. She turned and walked slowly to the door to the stairs, closed it quietly behind her, and went down. At the bottom she paused again and looked back up, but the door stayed closed and no footsteps came into the parlor from the bedroom. She pressed her forehead to the back door and began to sob. She opened the door and, as quickly as she could without attracting attention, went back to Hogwarts.

An hour later, as Ginny lay in her bed on a damp pillow, staring at the canopy, there was a scratching on the window. She scrambled up and raced to it, flinging it open so hard that it banged against the wall. McPherson hopped inside and lifted the leg that had the Honeydukes packet attached. Inside was a box of chocolate and a note. Ginny took them back to her bed and closed the hangings on her roommates’ stares. She put the chocolates on her pillow and opened the note. Many of the words were smeared by what were obviously teardrops. She wiped her own eyes and read.

 

 

 

> _Ginny,_
> 
> _How can I say I am sorry, after what I did? I can’t believe I did it, that I walked out on you, the most precious thing in my life. Can you forgive me? I can’t forgive myself._
> 
> _I don’t know what is wrong with me. Everything is frustrating. You are right about the inn. What should I do?_
> 
> _I don’t know what else to say, except please forgive me. I only want for us to be happy and to be together. I love you so much._
> 
> _Harry_

Ginny could not control her own tears, but tried to keep her sobs under her breath so her roommates would not hear. When she finally stopped, she wrote her answer on the back of Harry’s note.

 

 

 

> _My love,_
> 
> _I don’t understand either why you did it, but you know that I will always forgive you, just as I know you will do the same. I love you too much to do otherwise._
> 
> _Please, Harry, let’s talk about the inn. It must not come between us. Our love is the most beautiful thing in the world. Think about how we felt yesterday at Shell Cottage, and keep that feeling always in the front of your heart. That is what I will do._
> 
> _Your Ginny_

With tears running down her cheeks, she got out of bed and gave the note to McPherson. He clucked twice, nibbled her finger, and flew out the window. Ginny closed it quietly and went back to bed. After a few minutes, she could feel that Harry was watching her on the map, and the soothing magical warmth helped her fall asleep.

#   #   #   #

They did not see each other again until Harry’s lesson with Professor Flitwick on Wednesday. They exchanged several owls before then, and Harry assured her that he too wanted to talk. Ginny’s workload helped keep her mind from dwelling on the events of Sunday night and from wondering if Harry really meant what he said about talking. She was hopeful, but when she saw him at lunch after his lesson she had trouble controlling her reaction. He was haggard and moody.

“I haven’t slept much,” he muttered after they kissed in the entrance hall. “I had to take more gold out of Gringotts. It turns out I never paid for the dining room furniture.” He sighed and ran his hand through his unkempt hair. “I have no idea how I missed that.”

They stood facing each other for a moment before Ginny took his hand. “Come, let’s get something to eat.” They went into the Great Hall and ate quietly. The twins tried to start a conversation, but Harry didn’t respond to their questions about Skrewts, which apparently Hagrid had shown to their class. Ginny shook her head at them, and they finished lunch whispering to each other, wondering why Harry wouldn’t talk.

Things were not much better that weekend. Ginny had scheduled a full team Quidditch practice for Saturday morning, and Harry told her he didn’t feel like sitting for a couple of hours in the squally weather that had come up. They hung around the flat during the afternoon and met Ron and Hermione at The Three Broomsticks for dinner. Both Ron and Hermione mentioned Harry’s surliness to Ginny when Harry went to the loo, and she told them about their fight the previous Sunday. Ron stared at her in disbelief, and Hermione seemed close to tears.

Ginny herself felt a lump in her throat. “He just won’t admit that he made a mistake,” she said in a choked voice. “I tried talking about it last night. At least he didn’t get angry, but he won’t talk about it, either. And . . .” She hesitated, glancing at Ron, and said very quietly, “We haven’t made love this weekend.”

Ron looked away and said nothing; Hermione held her hand, and they all watched Harry as he made his way through the room back to their table. He sat and stared at the mirror behind the bar and responded to the rest of the conversation with grunts.

At least Turquoise Southeby wasn’t around, although Harry said she was at the inn every afternoon and evening during the week, sitting by herself or with one of her wizards. Ginny considered that piece of news, and decided that the bitch was being careful, appearing at the inn only when she was certain that Ginny would not show up.

The weekend ended on a better note. Once again, Ginny had to study at the library most of Sunday, and when she returned to the inn for dinner, Harry was, for some reason, in a better mood. He met her in front of the inn. “I saw you coming up the High Street. Do you want to go for a walk?”

Ginny was delighted, and they went back into the Hogwarts grounds and visited some of their old haunts around the Black Lake. Ginny didn’t want to ruin the moment, so she didn’t bring up anything about the inn, and Harry talked only about the Gryffindor Quidditch team and his lessons with Flitwick, and wondered why on earth Hagrid would show Blast-Ended Skrewts to a class of first-years.

They ate dinner in the flat and made love for the first time that weekend. Harry clung to her, almost hurting her, and became pathetically apologetic when he realized what he was doing. He seemed fearful when they parted in the entrance hall, and he clung to her again. McPherson came with Chocoballs, and Ginny lay in bed inside the hangings and wept when she felt the warmth of the Marauder’s Map envelope her.

The next several weeks followed the same pattern. Harry was morose and surly during the week and the first day of the weekend, but became almost himself again when Sunday afternoon came. He refused to talk about the inn, never mentioning any problems and brushing off Ginny’s tentative questions. Ron also tried talking to him but Harry was as unresponsive as he was with Ginny.

The only time that Harry really perked up was when Ginny sent Bailey to Shell Cottage with an almost desperate plea for another invitation. Fleur had them all back for dinner, and during the meal Harry once more became animated and attentive to Ginny. Fleur gave her some candles, and Ginny lit them in their bedroom back at the flat; their lovemaking that night was as passionate as ever, and Ginny decided to bring candles with her every weekend.

It seemed to work; Harry himself mentioned that he was in a better mood when the candles were lit, and for two weekends things were almost as good as they had ever been. But gradually the veela magic lost its effect, and Harry slipped back into his week-long funk, fueled no doubt by a stream of troubles that arose at the inn: disagreements with suppliers; dining room furniture that began to fall apart; arguments and a fistfight amongst customers; shortages of food and drink; and, probably as a result of all that, a decline in patronage.

Ginny could see that Stan, Kreacher, and Winky were all unhappy. She worried about Stan; if he became really miserable and didn’t think things would improve, he could leave, unlike the elves. She tried to talk to him once, at the beginning of November, but he just shook his head and kept polishing the counter. “‘Arry’ll get past it, just give ‘im some time.” Ginny didn’t know why Stan thought that; was he just a fatalist, or were his personal circumstances so shaky that he had no choice but to hope for the best?

Others besides Ron and Hermione became aware of the change in Harry. Professor Flitwick stopped Ginny in the corridor and asked if anything was wrong with Harry; his spells were becoming erratic and some of the more complicated ones were not working at all. Tony Trostle and Madam Rosmerta accosted her in the High Street one Saturday afternoon as she was returning to the inn from Quidditch, and told her that things were going badly at the Hog’s Head. But Ginny had no answer for them; she didn’t know herself what was happening.

“Well, he needs to do something pretty damn quick,” Rosmerta frowned. “He doesn’t have much time.” Ginny’s heart sank a little lower, and that night the love-making was desperate on both sides.

There were a few things that kept up Ginny’s spirits, at least a little. They still made love every weekend, and Harry sometimes opened up and talked afterwards. He also kept sending gifts of candy and chocolate every night during the week, and he also continued to use the Marauder’s Map. He stopped writing notes, though, and Ginny knew it was because he was afraid to say anything; the only thing he wrote was a short “I Love You” on the ribbons that bound the little presents. When the magical sensation from the map began to tingle and warm her, Ginny lay inside her four-poster cherishing the moment and wondering how it would all end.

She did catch up her schoolwork, and she still enjoyed her classes. Even Defense Against the Dark Arts became more interesting. Professor Pester was still a terrible teacher and he still gave boring lectures—they were mostly about himself—but he truly knew his subject and was very good at it, if not at teaching it.

What really kept Ginny going was Quidditch. The team was starting to jell, and the only really weak point was Dennis. Ginny herself was becoming more and more adept at controlling her magnificent Firebolt; she was sometimes a little scared at how fast and responsive it was; there was a feeling inside her when she flew that the broom was part of her. Whenever they practiced with a real Snitch it almost seemed that the broom itself was hunting it.

As the first match with Slytherin approached, Ginny’s excitement grew. And on Friday before the match, she heard the rumor circulating in the Great Hall and in the corridors: scouts from two professional Quidditch teams would be in the stadium, one from Puddlemere United and the other from the Holyhead Harpies.


	25. The Pit

The entire school was at a high pitch of excitement on the day of the first Quidditch match. Last year’s matches were universally considered a joke, since Muggle-borns had been barred from school and the Carrows had tried to control the teams because they were hotbeds of rebellion. Most people also thought that the Quidditch Cup was now up for grabs since Harry Potter was gone from Hogwarts. All the present Seekers were judged to be pretty even, although most conceded that Ginny Weasley had an edge in experience. But that was counter-balanced by the Gryffindor Keeper’s complete lack of experience and, by many accounts, his total incompetence.

Ginny was nervous at breakfast, but when the twins entered she started laughing and couldn’t stop. They were both wearing full griffin costumes, and someone had charmed their voices so that they spoke only in screeches, growls and roars, which sounded rather strange coming from their beaks. Their tails swished vigorously except when they got tangled together, at which times the girls had to yank them apart, all the while screeching, growling and snarling. Soon the entire Gryffindor table was laughing and cheering. Ginny and the rest of the team left and trooped down to the stadium in high spirits.

The stands were starting to fill, and Ginny went out on the pitch to look around. She saw Harry sitting with her family and they all waved to her. She blew Harry a kiss and he smiled; George said something to him and Ginny could see him blush even from a distance.

She had not stayed at the flat last night, since she wanted to eat breakfast with the team; she did have dinner with Harry, though, and he had made an effort to be pleasant. He hadn’t heard about the professional scouts who would be at the match, and when Ginny told him, he became quiet. She asked him if anything was wrong.

“Nothing,” he mumbled. “It’s really great that they’ll get to see you play.”

“I’ll miss you tonight.”

Harry sighed. “I’ll miss you too.” He perked up a little. “I’ll be sitting with your family just below the Gryffindor section. Ron said that Fleur is starting to look pregnant.”

Ginny grinned. “And did you hear? The Healer said her due date is May second, the anniversary of the battle. Bill said that if the baby is born that day, they’ll name her Victoire. Harry, that’s a tribute to you.”

He laughed, which he hadn’t done all evening, and she smiled back. “But,” he said, “if they really want to do that, they should name her Harriet.”

“I think Fleur wanted a heroic name. Besides, Harriet would have an uncle Harry, and that might confuse her when she’s little.”

Harry nodded, but didn’t smile. They finished without talking much, and Harry walked her back to the castle, where they said goodnight in the entrance hall. It was the first Friday in three months that they hadn’t spent the night together, and Ginny wanted to say something about it, but Harry was distant and moody, so they kissed and Harry walked out the doors. Ginny watched him for a moment and, with a heart that was not light, put him in a corner of her mind and told herself to think about nothing but Quidditch.

So now it was the morning of the match, and she snapped out of her reverie when Jimmy Peakes called to her from the tunnel. After another quick wave to her family, Ginny went back into the dressing room and was glad to see Ron sitting next to Dennis, but with a sinking feeling she recognized the sickly look on Dennis’s face; she had seen it often on Ron’s. Her brother had his arm draped over the Keeper’s shoulder and was speaking to him quietly. Dennis glanced up when Ginny came in and tried to smile.

“Please get the Snitch as fast as you can,” he said. “I don’t want to be barfing all over the crowd for too long.”

Ron looked up and grinned. “This is my kind of Keeper. He has a sense of humor and he’s considerate of others.”

Ginny patted Dennis’s arm. “Don’t worry, just do your best and leave the rest to us.” It was lame, but she couldn’t think of anything else to say. They all finished dressing and walked out onto the pitch.

Ginny felt a rising surge of anticipation as she looked over the Slytherin team standing across from them around Madam Hooch. Their Seeker, Ophiucus Paltrey, was a wiry and strong sixth-year, but Ginny knew he was afraid of physical contact up in the air. She didn’t know much about the others since everyone else from last year had finished or not returned to school. They had the same Slytherin attitude, though, not bothering to hide their sneers and snide comments.

“How’s Potter?” one of the Beaters, Matilda Malfoy, asked; she was a hefty, distant cousin of Draco’s. A few of the other Slytherins guffawed, and Ginny stared back at the girl, wondering if she meant anything other than the obvious innuendo. But Madam Hooch was speaking, and Ginny turned her attention back to the match. Hooch released the balls, paused a few seconds, and blew her whistle.

Ginny kicked off and soared into the sky. She felt liberated, not only from the ground but also from all her problems down there. The wind whipped through her hair, which she had pulled back with a clip, leaving it free to stream after her. The crowd’s roar grew fainter as she flew higher, circling and searching for the Snitch. She watched her team attack the Slytherin goal and quickly score twice. After the second goal Demelza grinned up at her and raised her thumb high above her head; Ginny knew that it was an acknowledgment of her coaching. The Chasers were flying with confidence, and the Slytherin defense was no match for their smooth and well-honed attack.

Gryffindor pulled steadily ahead. It was fortunate, though, that the Quaffle was at the Slytherin end most of the time, because whenever Slytherin did break through, all Dennis did was wave at the Quaffle on its way to the hoop. Ginny could see him becoming more and more uncertain with each shot. After one particularly pathetic attempt at a save where the Quaffle actually went between his legs—something Ginny had never seen before—she flew down to him.

“Relax, Dennis!” she shouted over the cheers and jeers of the Slytherin supporters. “We’re going to win, so stop trying so hard. Just remember what Ron showed you.” She could tell from his glassy-eyed stare that nothing she said would help, so she pulled away.

At that moment there was a change in the crowd noise, and Ginny knew that Paltrey had spotted the Snitch. She twisted around and saw him diving towards the center of the pitch. She instinctively shot in the same direction, even though she didn’t see the winged ball yet. Suddenly her broom turned, seemingly of its own accord and veered towards the Slytherin end. Ginny realized that the Slytherin Seeker had tried to decoy her. Paltrey also veered as soon as he saw that his tactic had failed, but it was too late. Ginny saw the Snitch hovering above the wall near the goal posts; she accelerated at a speed that startled even her and beat him to it by a good ten yards.

The Gryffindor section cheered, but the match had been so lopsided that most of the crowd just got up and started to leave. There were even some boos and whistles from the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students. Ginny looked up at the stands from the celebration in the middle of the pitch to wave to her family, but her hand stopped in mid-air.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Bill, and George were pushing through the crowd towards the exit; her parents, Percy, and Fleur were watching them anxiously. Her mother turned to the pitch, and Ginny saw her worried look. Molly shook her head at Ginny and pointed towards Hogsmeade, and Ginny guessed with a feeling of dread that something had happened at the inn.

She handed her broom to Demelza and left the celebration at a run. She tore out of the stadium and saw Harry as he and the others were running across the grounds towards the gates. She went after them at a trot, but had to slow to a walk near the train station when her breath gave out. Clusters of people stood in the street and in doorways, looking up the High Street. She started running again, but when she turned into the lane next to Dervish and Banges and saw the inn, she stopped.

The kitchen window on the second floor was broken in; all the panes of glass were shattered. She walked slowly down the lane, and as she looked up, saw that all the windows on the second floor were blown in. A large crowd was milling about in front of the door, many of them with their wands drawn, looking up.

Ginny felt a pang of fear. Bill and George were standing just outside the door, and Ginny pushed through the crowd, which parted for her; several people touched her shoulder and said her name as she passed.

“What happened?” she asked Bill. “Was anyone hurt?”

His face was grim and angry. “I don’t think anyone was up there. Harry’s owl just flew back. If it had been inside, it probably would have been killed.”

There was a commotion at the back of the crowd. Saliyah Ushujaa and Morequest Pester were trying to get through, but angry people blocked their way.

“Where the hell have the Aurors been?” one wizard shouted. “Someone could have been killed!”

Another wizard stuck his flushed face in front of Saliyah. “You think we’re a bunch a’ stupid country hicks up here! Don’t Harry Potter deserve a little help from the Ministry?”

The Auror put her hand up as more shouts and epithets were hurled at her. “That’s exactly why we’re here,” she said calmly. “We have not been ignoring you. We have had an Auror watching the inn for several weeks, and—”

“You mean this sod?” The first wizard pointed at Pester. “Stick one of your Sneakoscopes up in the room over the Post Office. He’s shacking up with that Turquoise tart, the same one that’s been stalking Harry.”

For an instant Saliyah’s eyes narrowed, then she stared at the man until he turned away, and walked past him to the door. Pester followed, looking straight ahead but when he passed Ginny his eyes flicked to hers.

“What are you laughing at,” George asked her.

Ginny watched Pester enter the dining room. “The Defense Against the Dark Arts curse strikes early this year. He’s not even going to last three months.” George snorted, and he and Bill went inside with Ginny.

The dining room was intact, and Ginny breathed a sigh of relief. Stan was behind the bar, his wand on the counter, speaking to the two Aurors—or to Saliyah, more exactly; Professor Pester stood behind his boss, staring blankly at one of the bar stools. Winky and Kreacher were huddled fearfully next to the kitchen door. The door was open, and Ginny could see Hermione standing just inside, her back to them. Harry must be upstairs, Ginny supposed, but she wasn’t sure if she should go to him. That reluctance, she realized bitterly, was the result of the way Harry had been treating her for a month. She swore under her breath, muttered, “The hell with him,” and walked into the kitchen.

Hermione turned when Ginny put a hand on her shoulder. “Oh, Ginny, you’re here! Ron and Harry went upstairs. They asked me to wait down here, just in case something else happened. Are you all right?”

“Fine. Saliyah and Pester are here. I guess they were at the match and figured that something went wrong. But Pester’s in trouble. Someone outside said he’s been sleeping with Turquoise.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. “No! What on earth was he thinking?”

“About the wrong thing,” Ginny chortled. “My guess is that he just lost two jobs.”

“Well, that’s also going to put Turquoise in the hot seat. That really makes her look suspicious.”

Before Ginny could speak, the back door opened and Harry and Ron walked in. Ron looked sober, but Harry’s face was black with anger, and Ginny clenched her jaw and sucked in a breath.

“It’s reparable,” said Ron. “We already fixed the bathroom window, but we wanted to leave the rest until the Aurors saw it.”

“The Auror,” Ginny said dryly. “Saliyah and Professor Pester showed up a few minutes ago, but some of the pissed-off villagers told Saliyah that he’s been sleeping with Turquoise.”

“You’re joking!” Ron exclaimed, but Harry looked even angrier.

“Well, that’s fucking great.” He turned away, put his hands on the stove, and leaned on his arms. “Kingsley Shacklebolt is worse than Fudge,” he said to the wall. He turned back to face them. “He’s got Aurors screwing the criminals, literally. What am I supposed to do, send Pester buckets of my gold so he’ll do his job? I can’t believe this.” He scowled at the door to the dining room where they could hear Stan still talking to Saliyah.

“Harry, that’s unfair, and it’s not true,” Hermione said. “Kingsley is doing the best he can. It’s not his fault if one of his Aurors can’t keep his pants on. And look at what Pester was up against. All she does is walk around flaunting it.”

“He was up against her pretty good, all right,” Harry replied. “If you want to defend him, Hermione, then do it someplace else. I can’t afford it.” He stalked out of the kitchen into the dining room. Ginny stared after him, fighting a lump in her throat; Harry had not even looked at her.

“What’s going on with him?” Ron said to Ginny after Harry had slammed the door behind him. “It’s like everyone is his enemy. He was having a great time at the match, but when his wand went off, he started swearing at everything and everyone. He even snapped at Fleur when she asked him what was going on.”

“I don’t know,” Ginny said as tears started flowing down her cheeks. She turned away and put her hands over her face. Her voice came out muffled and choked. “He’s not himself, he’s . . . he’s been changed by all this. He can’t admit that he messed up, that he should never have bought it.”

Ginny turned and threw herself at Ron as her shoulders shook with sobs; he held her, and Hermione also put her arms around Ginny. She and Ron gave each other worried, uncomprehending looks over Ginny’s head.

The dining room door opened and Harry stood in the doorway; he stopped when he saw them. “What’s wrong?”

Hermione, scowling fiercely, grabbed his hand and yanked him inside the kitchen. She stomped around him and closed the door. _”Colloportus!”_ she snapped, pointing her wand at it, and spun around to face Harry. He looked back at Ron and Ginny, who was wiping her face with her sleeve without looking at him.

Hermione glared at him. “You know perfectly well what’s wrong. Look at Ginny. Look at her, Harry! What in Merlin’s name are you doing? Have you lost every shred of sense?”

Harry turned. Ginny was no longer crying, but her eyes were wet. “Harry,” she murmured, “Harry, what’s wrong? Please tell me.”

A shadow passed over his face. “It’s . . . it’s this.” He suddenly slumped to a squatting position on the floor and put his arms over his head. Ginny made a move towards him but Ron held her back.

Harry looked up desperately, pleading with his eyes. “Ginny, I’m sorry. I know I’m always saying that. I don’t know why I take it out on you, on everyone.” He bent his head and they could barely hear his hoarse voice. “These things keep happening, and I can’t stop them. They broke the Anapido, but my wand started shaking, so I knew something was wrong. Then we got here . . . If McPherson hadn’t been out hunting, he would be dead, just like . . .” His voice broke and he fell back down, sitting on the floor.

Ginny squatted next to him and took one of his hands. He looked at her out of frightened eyes. She spoke in a clear voice. “Harry, we’re all here, everyone is here because they love you. People outside were yelling at Saliyah because she’s not protecting you. Harry, I love you.”

He nodded and put her hand to his mouth; a choked sob escaped. “I love you too,” he said, but he didn’t look at her.

Ginny stood and Harry also got up. He hugged her for a long time, and Ginny held him as tightly as she could. Finally he lifted her chin. “I love you,” he whispered.  He tried to smile, but it was more of a flinch. “Let’s go clean up.”

Hermione unsealed the door, Ron got Saliyah—Pester was gone—and Harry led them upstairs. Ginny gasped when she saw the shards of glass and pieces of splintered mullions covering the floor. “Oh, Harry!” she cried, grabbing his hand, “who would do this?”

“I wish I knew,” he answered, and gave her hand a squeeze. He walked over to McPherson, who was sitting on his perch looking outraged, and the owl hopped onto Harry’s arm. Saliyah walked around the flat, peering out each of the broken windows, and finally told Harry he could clean it up, and went back downstairs.

They all backed against the wall opposite the casement window and Harry pointed his wand. _”Reparo!”_ he said loudly and firmly. At first slowly, but with gathering speed, hundreds of tiny slivers of glass and wood began streaming through the air towards the shattered window, and in a few seconds it was once again intact.

They went around the flat, into the kitchen and the bedroom, and quickly all the windows were repaired. The bed hangings had been closed, but Ginny checked inside anyway. When everything was secure, they went down to the dining room and gathered around Saliyah who was talking to Stan again; they could see Bill and George outside with a few customers who had stayed.

“I’m going to set a guard, Harry,” Saliyah said, “until we get to the bottom of this. They’ll take their meals here and sleep in shifts someplace or other in the village or maybe at the castle. I promise you it won’t happen again.”

Harry stared at her, hard. “Where’s Pester? He never told me anything about the Dark Marks or the weasel or the chimney. Did he do anything in Hogsmeade besides shag Turquoise Southeby?”

“I’m sorry about that. Morequest is back in London. He’s going to have some disciplinary issues, but that’s between him and me. He’s good, Harry, he really is, but he’s also young and, well, I’m sure you noticed that he thinks very highly of himself. He was very brave during the war, he stood up to the Death Eaters and to Thicknesse, and maybe he got a little too much adulation for that, and maybe we pushed him along too fast.” She sighed. “I need to talk to this Southeby person. Do you know where she lives?”

They glanced at each other, and Ron cleared his throat. Saliyah looked from one to the other, and finally Harry spoke. “Ginny and I tried to follow her home, but we lost her about three miles east of here. We think she’s using a Fidelius.”

“What?! Are you sure?”

“Yes we are. We talked to Bill, and he thought so too.”

The Auror frowned. “That’s very interesting. Well, I’ll catch her at her work.” She turned to go, but paused and smiled at Ginny. “You were brilliant today. I heard there were scouts at the match. Don’t be surprised if someone comes to talk to you.”

As Saliyah walked out, the Weasley family walked in. Molly was highly indignant, and after crushing Harry with a massive hug, proclaimed, “This is outrageous. How many times has it happened now? Four? Five? I’m going to have a talk with Kingsley, they _must_ do something.”

“They’re stationing guards, Mrs. Weasley.” Harry gasped for breath as George and Percy pushed two tables together and they all sat. “I’m hoping it’ll stop now.”

No one mentioned Harry’s outburst of temper at the match, and soon they were eating lunch. Stan brought drinks—butterbeers for everyone except Potio Vitae for Harry and Hermione. The conversation turned to the Quidditch match and Ginny’s outstanding performance.

“But it wasn’t just your flying,” George said as he polished off a corned beef sandwich. “I never saw a Hogwarts team so well coached. It was no contest, even with the, um, problems in goal. Ron, I heard you gave the poor bloke some tips. Well done.” He smirked at his brother.

“He didn’t puke, so I consider it a huge success,” Ron answered.

“Ronald!” Molly glared at him. “Not at the table, if you don’t mind.”

Ron looked at Hermione. “What did I say?”

“The usual.”

“Oh. Sorry, Mum. You should be proud of me, though. I now have two careers, Auror and Quidditch coach.”

Molly pointed her fork at him. “You won’t have _any_ careers if you don’t watch your manners.”

“Yes, Mum.”

As they ate and talked, Ginny was aware that Harry remained quiet. He sipped his drink and ate his food, but didn’t look up from his plate. His response in the kitchen had perked up her spirits, as did the praise she was getting from her family, but she wasn’t sure what was bothering Harry right now, whether it was Quidditch for some reason or, once again, the inn. At least he had acknowledged her and accepted her attempt to comfort him.

Towards the end of the meal, while they were sipping coffee and tea and talking about Fleur’s baby, two witches walked in dressed in dark green robes emblazoned with a golden talon. They looked around and one of them caught Ginny’s eye and came over to the Weasleys’ table; the other sat at a table near the door. As the first witch approached, Ron’s eyes bulged and he reached over and clutched Ginny’s arm.

“Miss Weasley?” the witch said. “How do you do? I’m Gwenog Jones, captain of the Holyhead Harpies Quidditch club, and I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind speaking with us for a few minutes. That’s our scout, Brenda Touron.” She pointed to the witch sitting near the door, who smiled and waved.

Ginny’s hands were shaking and she wasn’t sure if her legs would hold if she stood. “Sure,” she said, her voice cracking. “Sure.” Everyone at the table was grinning at her; she glanced at Harry, and he smiled too. “I’ll be right back.” She put her hand on his shoulder as she pushed back her chair. They all watched as Ginny followed Jones and sat with the two witches.

“Awesome!” Ron said. “Dad, that Firebolt was the best thing you could have got her.” He turned to Hermione. “She won’t need those season passes now. Maybe she’ll give them back to us.” He fended off her slaps with his arm. “Just kidding! Just kidding!”

After ten minutes the witches and Ginny rose and shook hands. The visitors left and Ginny came back to the table, a huge grin on her face. Everyone looked at her expectantly, even Harry. “Well,” said Arthur, “when are you turning professional?”

Ginny blushed. “Oh, Dad, don’t say that. They just want me to come to a tryout next spring. I’m not the only one they’re asking. Two of their Chasers are retiring.”

“Darling, that’s brilliant news!” said her mother, taking her hand. “You are so talented. My goodness, I never thought we would have a professional Quidditch player in the family. This is so exciting!”

“I haven’t made the team yet, Mum. Please, it’s still a long way off. There’s lots of things that could happen between now and then.”

“Nope,” said George, “it’s a mere formality. Ronald,” he turned to his brother, “you can start repainting your attic room, and we’ll burn those ghastly orange pajamas of yours.”

“Okay, and I’ll paint your entire flat over the shop alternating rooms of green and orange. Split loyalties, so to speak.”

“You do any such thing and I’ll move out,” Hermione said darkly, “and then there won’t be anyone to clean up your messes and bring you tea in bed every morning.”

“Blimey! You do that for this git?” George pointed at Ron. “No wonder he’s so happy these days. I should raise your rent,” he said to Ron.

The laughter went around the table. Ginny was glad to see that Harry smiled, if only occasionally; hopefully, the only reason he was not completely enjoying himself was because of what had happened upstairs. She herself was as happy and excited as she had been in weeks—ever since Harry’s mood had started to change—and she vowed not to let his brooding ruin the occasion. She had always had fantasies about playing Quidditch for her favorite team, but she had never taken those dreams seriously. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be soaring through the sky experiencing the thrill of a Quidditch match and be paid for it, to be able to make a living at it.

Without realizing it, she took Harry’s hand and pressed it to her thigh under the table. He looked at her with a smile and started moving the hand. Ginny closed her eyes for a moment and hoped that the feeling would last.

The Weasleys returned to their homes, except Ron and Hermione who decided, after prompting from Ginny, to stay through dinner. She hoped their presence would help if Harry descended into another funk; she even held out a tiny hope that he might talk about the inn or the Auror training program.

They all walked back to the castle so that Ginny could change out of her Quidditch robes, and while they walked Harry described what he had pieced together after talking to Stan and some of the customers.

“Carlos saw someone go around to the back, but he didn’t get a good look, just that it was someone short. Do you remember the Dark Mark on the first day of school? Winky saw a short witch running away, and I’ll bet it was the same one.”

“Pansy Parkinson,” said Ron. “She’s the one.”

“She’s not that short,” said Hermione. “She’s taller than me.”

“No, she’s shorter by at least two inches.”

“Well, that’s not really short. You wouldn’t call me short, would you?”

“No, but I would call someone two inches shorter than you, short.”

“She’s taller than me,” Ginny piped up, “so just ask Carlos how the witch compared to me and Hermione.”

“How could he tell that?” Ron said. “He just saw her for a second.”

“Ginny and I can take turns running past the window, and Carlos can say who was shorter,” said Hermione.

“The three of you are mental,” Harry cut in before anyone else could speak. “It doesn’t matter because there are ten thousand witches in Britain who are short.”

“Well, maybe it was someone disguised as a short witch,” Ron said.

Harry stopped, and the others did too. “I don’t believe this. If that’s how they teach you to think in that Auror school, then I’ll be sure never to go there.” Ron grinned, and Hermione and Ginny chuckled and exchanged looks. Ginny felt good that Harry could joke about something—anything—so she took a chance and took his hand. He held it and they started walking again.

They went up to the common room together and a cheer went up when people saw them. Several came running, and Ginny felt Harry’s hand tighten; she looked at him and he grinned.

“You do know what I’m thinking,” he said quietly. “The last time I came in here after a Quidditch match, you made me kiss you.” His eyes twinkled and Ginny laughed, not just because of his little joke but because he was himself again.

After Ginny changed they went back to the inn and spent the rest of the afternoon sitting around a table sipping drinks, munching on a steady stream of snacks and sweets, and dissecting the Quidditch match. Harry suggested faking another dose of Felix Felicis for Dennis, but conceded to Hermione’s argument that it would be too obvious. They all agreed that, barring disaster, the Quidditch Cup was all but won for Gryffindor. Ginny had done such an excellent coaching job and her Seeker skills were so far above any other flyer in school, that they couldn’t see how any other team had a chance against them.

In the middle of the afternoon three Aurors walked in. They looked slowly around the room, which had become silent; two of them sat at the bar and one came over to Harry.

“Is everything okay, Mr. Potter,” she asked.

“Fine, and thanks for coming. Help yourselves to whatever you want. Just tell Stan or Kreacher, they’ll take care of you.”

“Thanks,” she smiled, “but that won’t be necessary. We’re on an expense account. Gold on the barrelhead for everything we eat or drink. I’m Sagittaria Slocum. I’m in charge of the detail.” She gave a nod and joined her companions at the bar. After a few minutes two of them went outside while the third sat at a table near the door. The two outside walked around the building and out of sight.

“Do you know them?” Hermione asked Ron.

He nodded. “I’ve seen them in and out of the Ministry, but I never talked to them.”

Ron and Hermione left after dinner. Ginny and Harry walked down to The Three Broomsticks and found Hagrid there; they had a drink with him, but Ginny spotted Turquoise sitting in a corner with friends. The blond witch kept watching Harry, whose back was to her, and every time Ginny caught her eye she picked up her glass of firewhiskey and took a sip. Finally, Ginny’s irritation grew too much and she told Harry she wanted to leave. Harry was grumpy about it.

“Why should we let her dictate what we do? I was having a nice chat with Hagrid,” he said as they returned to the inn.

“About Blast-Ended Skrewts? Actually, she reminds me of one. Besides,” she put her arm in his and leaned on his shoulder, “I was looking forward to being just the two of us.”

Harry grunted and Ginny tensed. “Okay,” he said.

As they walked around to the back of the inn and Harry opened the door, Ginny knew that his mood had again swung in the wrong direction; this was not Harry’s typical playfulness, let alone the passion she was hoping for. They did not speak as they climbed the stairs. Ginny went into the bedroom, but Harry went into the kitchen where Ginny could hear him rattling around. After a few minutes she joined him; Harry was standing with his back to the cabinets, leaning against a counter, staring into space.

“Is something wrong?” Ginny asked hesitantly, thinking _here we go again_.

Harry turned to look at her. “Not if you think it’s okay to have all your windows busted.”

“But the Aurors are downstairs. No one can get near the place now.”

Harry shrugged. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’m sorry, Gin, sometimes I just can’t seem to shake this sour mood.”

They stood there, and finally Ginny said, “Come, love, let’s go to bed.”

They went into the bedroom and Ginny lit the candles, but for the first time since they had started making love she didn’t enjoy it, and she wasn’t sure that Harry had, either. As soon as he was finished he rolled over with his back to her.

She put her hand on his shoulder. “Sweetheart, what is it?”

“Nothing. Put out the candles, will you?”

Ginny was still for several long moments. She took her wand and extinguished the candles and lay on her back, listening to Harry’s breathing. “I’ll be going to the library in the morning,” she said. “I’ll be back for dinner, if that’s okay.”

Harry didn’t answer, and Ginny thought that he was asleep. After a minute he muttered something that she couldn’t hear. “What?” she asked.

“I said fine, whatever you want.” He pulled the covers higher and Ginny turned her back to him, and they slept.

# # # #

Ginny got up early and hurriedly dressed. Harry didn’t wake, and she tried to be as quiet as possible. It was nearly the breakfast hour at Hogwarts, but she didn’t want to talk to anyone there, so she went down to the kitchen to make something for herself. Winky poked a sleepy head out of her cupboard.

“Does Ginny Weasley want breakfast?” she yawned. “Winky can make it.”

Ginny waved at the elf. “Please, don’t bother, I’m fine.”

Winky stared at Ginny, and for some reason it made her uncomfortable. “Ginny Weasley is fine?” Winky said, and cocked her head.

“Of course. What do you mean?”

“Winky means nothing.” She clambered out of the cupboard and took a bottle of cold milk from a shelf and handed it to Ginny. Ginny poured some over her corn flakes and began eating, while Winky puttered around the kitchen. When Ginny was done she put the bowl and her spoon in the sink and was about to walk out the door, but paused with her hand on the handle.

“Is Harry fine?” She turned and looked at Winky.

The elf frowned. “Winky must not say bad things about Harry Potter. Ginny Weasley should know the answer to that question.” Winky didn’t look at her, but disappeared into a large cupboard; Ginny heard pots and pans clattering, but after a minute, when Winky didn’t reappear, Ginny left.

It was almost six in the afternoon when she returned. She had finished a twenty-four inch parchment for Transfiguration and a slightly shorter one for Defense Against the Dark Arts, but now she didn’t know who would be teaching that class. The news about Professor Pester had reached the school, and several people approached her in the library to find out what she knew. She only told Keesha and Luna about Pester’s transgression, and they both went away shaking their heads.

Ginny walked into the dining room of the inn and saw Harry seated at the bar talking to one of the Aurors; each had a bottle of Potio Vitae in his hand. Harry didn’t notice her, but Stan looked at her. His eyes shifted toward the back of the room, and Ginny saw Turquoise sitting by herself, staring back at her with narrowed eyes. She was wearing one of the very low-cut tops that Ginny had seen before. Ginny glowered, and after a moment Turquoise got up and walked towards the door; as she brushed past Ginny, she gave a little smirk. Ginny waited until she was gone, and went to the bar. Harry had watched Turquoise leave, but turned away.

The Auror nodded to Ginny. “How are you, Miss Weasley? I saw you at the Quidditch match yesterday. You’re quite a flyer.”

“Thanks.” She smiled quickly. “Harry, what was she doing here? I thought we agreed she wasn’t welcome.”

Harry swung around and faced her. “I never said that. Why shouldn’t she come in here? She’s not bothering anyone.”

“She’s bothering me. Doesn’t that matter?”

Harry glanced at the Auror. “Let’s go upstairs,” he said to Ginny. He put his bottle down. “I’ll be back,” he told Stan.

They walked through the kitchen where Winky stopped mixing a bowl of salad greens and watched them. Upstairs in the parlor, Ginny went over to McPherson and let him nibble her hand. Then she turned to Harry. He was standing in front of the door, staring at her.

She walked towards him. “Listen, Harry, something is going on and I want to talk about it. You’ve been treating me as though I’m your enemy. That whore down there is your enemy, she’s—”

‘Now wait a minute, she’s a strange bird, but she hasn’t done anything. How can you call her my enemy?”

“Hasn’t done anything? She sits there with her clothes half off, broadcasting to the world that she’s available to you. How do you think that makes me feel?”

Harry shrugged. “Lousy, I guess, but what do you want me to do about it?”

Ginny gritted her teeth; she was standing only a foot in front of him. “I want you to do the same thing you should be doing about this stupid inn. I want you to talk about it. Harry, this is destroying us, don’t you see? Please! Talk!”

He glared, walked around her, and stood with his back against the love seat. “There’s nothing to talk about. It’s my inn and I’ll let in whoever I want.”

Ginny had turned to face him. She had a lump in her throat, and her whole body was starting to trembling. “I thought it was _our_ inn.”

“My inn, our inn . . . you’ll be off playing Quidditch, so what difference does it make?”

“What? Is that what’s bothering you?” She walked towards him and put her hand on his face; Harry flinched. “Harry, love, what is wrong? Why are you saying these things? I thought you’d be happy that I have this chance. You know how important it is to me. Please, don’t say—”

Harry suddenly pushed her hand away, and Ginny backed up, shocked, beginning to be frightened. “What are you doing?” she whispered. “What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing!” Harry shouted, advancing on her with a look of fury that she had never seen before. Her hand went to her wand. Harry continued towards her, and Ginny backed up until she was against the wall next to the door. Harry put his arm on the wall, blocking her in. His green eyes flashed. “Why does something have to be wrong with me? Did it ever occur to you that the problem is you?”

“No, Harry. The problem isn’t me, it’s you.”

Harry swung, and pain exploded in Ginny’s head; his hard slap caught her just below her eye. As he pulled his arm back again, her wand came up.

“ _Stupefy!”_ she screamed. Harry was flung back over the love seat and tumbled onto the rug in front of the fireplace. McPherson screeched and flapped his wings. Ginny yanked the door open and, pressing her hand to her throbbing cheek, stumbled down the stairs, out the back door, and ran.

#   #   #   #

Harry lay on his front, his face buried in the rug. He gradually became aware of where he was, but he did not move for almost an hour, only flexing his right hand, the one he had struck Ginny with. The room darkened, and finally he sat up. He looked at his hand and took the wrist in his left hand, holding it up as though it was detached from his body. Again he did not move.

When the room was in almost total darkness, he stood, swaying slightly. He looked at McPherson who was only a shadow in the dark, and walked unsteadily to the owl. He reached out with his right hand, but McPherson screeched again and pecked at it viciously. Harry did not react, but let the hand dangle in the air as blood dripped onto the floor. McPherson fluttered away and perched on the mantel.

Harry took out his wand. _”Lumos,”_ he said; the wand briefly sparked but would not light. He stared at it, dropped it on the floor, and walked slowly to the bedroom. The bed hangings, dully illuminated in the failing light from the window, were open and the covers thrown back; he had not bothered to make the bed when he got up that morning. He stared at it for several minutes, then walked slowly back to the parlor and sat on the rug, facing the cold fireplace, his back to the love seat. McPherson clucked and flew back to his perch.

Hours later, Harry finally fell asleep on the rug. He dreamt of cold empty moors, windswept cliffs, and frigid wintry forests where he wandered alone, looking for something that could not be found. He did not awaken until long after dawn.

Harry did not leave the flat that day. He ate nothing, and drank a glass of water only when his thirst became almost intolerable and his lips began to crack. He lay on the rug as fear overwhelmed him. The wound that McPherson had inflicted began to throb, and he went into the bathroom and ran water over it. The owl would not let Harry come near, so finally he opened the window and it flew out, hooting loudly. In the evening, Stan knocked on the door, but Harry called out telling him to go away.

He tried lighting his wand when it got dark, but it would not even spark. That night Harry huddled on the rug again and had the same dream.

Tuesday passed just as Monday had, except now Harry was alone with not even an angry owl for company. Again he only drank a few glasses of water, but in the evening Stan came upstairs with Winky and Kreacher. Harry was dizzy from hunger, and he opened the door and took the tray that Kreacher was holding. Winky scowled when she saw Harry’s swollen hand, and he let Kreacher go back down and get a potion of some kind that the old elf smeared on the wound; in a few minutes it was healed.

Harry felt better after he had eaten, but when he asked for something to drink Stan brought him a butterbeer.

“We got another bad shipment of PV,” Stan said, glancing at Kreacher and Winky. “People said it tasted real funny. No one wants it. Sipper said ‘e’ll send another batch on Saturday.”

On Wednesday morning Harry finally went downstairs. He had not slept in the bed, and he could not do any magic with his wand. Winky sent him back upstairs when she saw him, ordering him to shave and bathe. He didn’t object because he did not want to talk, and also because he did not care. Afterwards, he sat in the dining room with his ledger book open on the table, using it as an rampart to avoid conversations. The three Aurors stared and muttered to each other, but he ignored them, just as he ignored everyone else. He didn’t know why he sat there, rather than up in the flat; maybe he was hoping for someone to come see him, but he was sure that no one would.

Turquoise came early in the afternoon and sat at the table next to Harry, but when Stan spilled a tray of mugs filled with butterbeer down her front, she left with her hands covering her completely soaked blouse, and did not return.

Harry sat in the dining room by day and slept on the rug by night, and the week crept on. He talked to no one about what had happened or about anything else. He did not go to his Charms lesson, and by the time the weekend came, a black terror had engulfed his soul, worse than anything he ever felt in seven years of fighting Voldemort.


	26. Turntongue

The week that followed Harry's blow was the worst of Ginny’s life.

Her lesser anguish was having to explain the bruise on her face. At first she told people she had been hit by a Bludger, but her teammates wanted to know when it had happened; they couldn’t recall it. So she changed her story to say that she fell out of bed one night, but Sarah and Christina looked dubious and started asking questions about Harry.

She would not go see Madam Pomfrey, who could have made the bruise disappear in an instant, because she would have to explain it and knew the nurse would not believe any of her stories. She could have sent an owl to George asking for a jar of Wheezes Bruise Remover, but that would have prompted questions too. So she started using heavy makeup and ignored the questions and the questioners.

Then the whispered conversations behind her back began. She heard snatches in the common room and as she walked in the corridors: she and Harry had had a fight; Harry had pushed her around; Harry had beaten her up; there was going to be an investigation by the Ministry of Magic; she would be expelled; Harry would be arrested. She didn’t care what people said, but she knew that eventually someone on the staff would hear something and she would have to answer questions. Maybe Harry _would_ get into trouble, and she was of two minds about that.

But she also faced a greater anguish: the questions she never stopped asking herself, and for which she had no answers. Why had Harry hit her? Why was he so angry all the time, especially at her? Did it have anything to do with Turquoise Southeby? His constant problems with the inn and his increasing unhappiness were hardly reasons—let alone excuses—for any of it. She would not—could not—see him again until those questions were answered, but how could she get answers without seeing him?

And did she even _want_ to see him? No one had ever done this to her. The only person in her life who had struck her was her lover. When that thought occurred to her, the pit of despair deepened, and her desire to completely shut off the world became stronger.

She spent a lot of time  alone in her room, even during the day. It never occurred to her to confide in her roommates. The only people she could imagine talking to were Hermione and her mother, and maybe if they had been around she would have sought them out. But she was not even sure about that; the thought of the look on her mother’s face if she saw the bruise, and the shame of having to say who had done it, were beyond her imagination. In fact, when she pictured what her mother’s expression would be, it was the same murderous contortion of her face that had preceded Bellatrix Lestrange’s death. So instead of talking to someone, she lay on her bed for hours, staring at the canopy of her four-poster or crying, often sobbing, into the comfortless pillows.

What had gone wrong? The school year had started off so happily; every minute of the hours she spent with Harry was a new experience of joy. They had lain for hours in each other’s arms, laughing, arguing about who was crazier for whom, finding new ways to bring pleasure to each other. They had talked obliquely about marriage, about a family.

It was clear, now that she thought about it, that his unhappiness at being an innkeeper had been increasingly directed at her, as though it had not been his idea from the beginning. She hadn’t ignored it, but she had never really pressed him about it because she was afraid of his reaction. Well, now she had his reaction.

She remembered her giddiness when Harry first brought her to the inn after her birthday. She was so in love, everything seemed so perfect. She and Harry were starting an adventure that promised only romance and happiness. It now tasted like ashes in her mouth. Was it all gone? Was her eight-year dream of Harry Potter ending in a nightmare? Was it nothing more than an adolescent fantasy that she would look back on and shake her head at in disbelief?

She had never given up on him, neither before nor after she was only Ron’s little pest of a sister. A few of her friends had warned her that Harry was “damaged goods.” _“Don’t invest yourself in him,”_ they said. Why had she still wanted him? And was the “damage” now manifesting itself in the violence of last Sunday? And what about Southeby? Ginny was never at the inn on weekdays; that woman could have been there for hours with Harry. But she would not go down that path yet. The thought of Harry being unfaithful was so painful that she could not see where the depth of that hurt would end. Her despair was paralyzing her; if it became any worse she did not know how she could stop herself from going completely insane.

She was missing meals and most classes—Defense Against the Dark Arts had been suspended, at least—and she had stopped spending any time in the common room. In the few classes she did attend, she noticed that the teachers were watching her. She completely avoided Keesha and Luna, and started being the first one out the door when each class ended, not wanting to be stopped and questioned. She fell days behind in her homework, unable to concentrate; whenever she opened a book she just stared at the pages, seeing nothing.

Her appearance became haggard and sloppy. She didn’t bathe or even brush her hair, and couldn’t look at herself in the mirror. One morning she picked up a ribbon from her dresser and started to put it in her hair, but stopped and stared at Harry’s photograph and at her reflection in the mirror. She put her hand on the bruise and suddenly began to sob uncontrollably. Sarah came and put an arm around her shoulder, but Ginny ignored her, her chest heaving, her hands covering her face. The girl finally went to breakfast, and Ginny did not leave the room that day.

The weekend arrived, and there had been nothing from Harry. McPherson had not tapped at her window with a love note in his beak or a little package of candies from Honeydukes tied to his leg—or a letter explaining why Harry had done it and begging for forgiveness. Her resolve to avoid thinking about Turquoise had finally collapsed, and all she had been able to think of for the past twenty-four hours was the flat over the Hogs Head, the four-poster in the bedroom, and Harry and Turquoise.

On Saturday, after having gone sleepless for the second night in a row, Ginny somehow found the motivation to drag herself to lunch; she was light-headed, and knew that it was because she had barely eaten for days. She also knew why people were staring at her as she walked to the Great Hall: she had not bathed in three days; her hair was a tangled, bedraggled bird’s nest; her eyes were red from both lack of sleep and weeping; and she was wearing the same clothes she had worn yesterday and spent the night in. Her bruise had not healed; it was now a sickly green. She didn’t care, and had neglected to cover it with makeup.

She slipped into the Great Hall, keeping her eyes down, and hurried to the Gryffindor table. She found a seat near the end. A third-year boy moved aside for her, wrinkling his nose and glancing at his friends.

Ginny ignored everyone, as well as the whispers around her. She looked at the food on the table, but nothing was at all appealing. She tore a small piece of bread from a loaf and started chewing on it; at least she would have something in her stomach, which had been growling all morning.

She kept her head down. Now no one around her was talking, they were all looking at each other, and a few cast glances at the staff table where, unnoticed by Ginny, Professor McGonagall was staring in her direction with a small frown.

Ginny swallowed the bread with difficulty. Her mouth and throat were dry; she could not seem to salivate. As she ate, surrounded by silence, the third-year boy passed a dish in front of her to the girl on her other side. It was piled high with broiled chicken, and Ginny recognized Kreacher’s recipe that Harry had given to the Hogwarts kitchen elves. Her eyes filled with tears and a lump blocked her throat. She put down the unfinished chunk of bread and stood. Everyone around her stared as she stepped over the bench, tears pouring down her face, and walked out of the Great Hall and down the corridor to the marble staircase. She was aware of nothing, including the sound of the doors to the Great Hall opening, and the footsteps of several people following her, and of the voices that called her name. A hand grasped her shoulder and brought her to a stop.

Ginny turned and saw, with a start, Keesha standing in front of her. Next to Keesha was Luna, and behind them were Emma and Claire, shock and fear on their faces. Behind the twins were three more students, and with a greater start, Ginny recognized three Slytherin first-years: Zoroaster Black, Sean Allen, and Abigail Abernathy; they kept looking back nervously at the doors to the Great Hall.

Keesha had her hand on Ginny’s shoulder. “Are you all right?” she asked quietly. “Nobody’s seen you for days.” Her eyes narrowed as she looked closely at Ginny’s face and the garish bruise. “What happened?”

“I fell out of bed,” Ginny mumbled. “I need to get back to my room.”

Keesha kept her hand on Ginny’s shoulder. “You fell out of bed?”

Luna scratched her chin and seemed puzzled. “I don’t think that’s true, Ginny. Young adults don’t normally fall out of bed. Are you sure?”

Ginny swayed on her feet, staring open-mouthed at Luna; she looked around at them all.

“What’s going on?” she said. “Do you mind—” She tried to turn away, but now Sean, tall for his age and muscular, moved so that he was blocking her way.

“Ginny,” Emma said timorously, “how—how is Harry? Don’t you usually stay with him on the weekends?”

Ginny glared at her. “Mind your own fucking business!” she snapped, but immediately felt chagrined as Emma stepped back, frightened.

Keesha’s grip on her shoulder tightened. “Ginny, we need to talk to you, but not here.” She looked back at the Great Hall; the doors were open, and they could hear benches scraping the floor as students got up from the tables. “They need to tell you something. About Harry.”

Ginny’s knees suddenly buckled; hands caught her as she lost her balance. She clutched at Zoroaster and Sean who were holding her arms. Emma still looked frightened, and Claire bit her trembling lip.

“Come on,” Keesha said as students streamed past them, “let’s get into a classroom. You can sit down. Emma, run back before the tables get cleared. Grab some pumpkin juice and anything else you can.”

Sean and Zoroaster helped Ginny stumble into the nearest classroom and set her down in a chair. She felt very shaky; her head was light, her throat was dry, and she was nauseous. It was stuffy in the room, and she gasped for air. The walls and the faces seemed to close in around her. “What—what about Harry?” she stammered breathlessly.

Keesha looked at Zoroaster, who was staring at Ginny. Ginny looked back at him, and at Sean and Abigail who were standing next to him. Moving her eyes made her dizzy, and she closed them.

The door opened and Emma came in carrying a glass of pumpkin juice. “It was all that was left,” she said, handing it to Ginny. “All the food was already cleared.”

Ginny took the glass and a gulp of juice, but gagged and spit it out. Emma jumped back too late, and the front of her tee shirt was splattered orange.

“Oh, God, I’m sorry,” Ginny gasped. She pulled out her wand, but Keesha pushed it down.

“Maybe someone else should do that.” She pointed her own wand, muttered, “ _Scourgify,_ ” and the stain vanished.

She nodded to Zoroaster, and Ginny looked at him again. Everyone was silent. The Slytherin’s lips were a thin line; he pushed a shock of black hair back from his face.

“They’re poisoning Harry,“ he said.

“What?” Ginny whispered almost inaudibly; she was still dizzy, and the words had taken away what little breath she had.

“They’re poisoning Harry with something called Turntongue. They found out he really likes that new drink, that Potio Vitae—” he wrinkled his nose “—and they’re slipping poison into it before it gets delivered to the Hog’s Head. I guess it’s affecting everyone who drinks it, but he’s the one they’re trying to kill.”

“Who?” Ginny asked in a whisper again; she was beginning to tremble.

“I don’t know. They didn’t say.”

“Who? How do you know? How did you find out?”

The boy smiled grimly and glanced at Sean and Abigail; their faces were angry, defiant, frightened.

“We overheard two of the bastards blabbing in the common room,” Sean said. “Jace Kleinhead and Serpens Lestrange. They were talking to Tiberius Rookwood and they were all drunk. I think they’re running a firewhiskey still somewhere in the dungeons. They must have threatened the house-elves to keep them quiet. They’re a couple of sodding pri-“ He glanced at Abigail. “Anyway, they’re right bloody gits. They started off bitching about you getting to spend your weekends in Hogsmeade, and then they began gloating about Voldemort getting revenge on Harry even though he’s dead.”

Abigail murmured something under her breath and blushed. “Yeah,” nodded Sean, “they made a bunch of filthy comments about you too.”

Ginny waved her hand. She didn’t care what a pair of drunken Slytherins thought or said about her; she wanted to hear about Harry. “Please,” she croaked, “what did they say about the poison?”

“It’s very slow working, so he won’t suspect anything. And they said that it also makes you feel exactly the opposite of what you really feel.” He hesitated and glanced at Ginny’s bruise. “So if you love someone it makes you hate them. They figured that’s what happened. It’s supposed to be the only way you can tell if someone’s taking it. But eventually, it’ll kill him. That’s what they said.”

Ginny swayed in her chair; the room went in and out of focus and Claire grabbed her to keep her from falling on the floor.

“Why are you here?” Ginny whispered. “You and Emma?”

Claire was almost in tears. “Zoro and Sean came to us. We wanted to tell you, but we were scared, so we went to Keesha and Luna since they’re your friends.”

Ginny struggled to her feet, wobbling precariously. Sean caught her arm, but she pushed his hand away and staggered towards the door. The others went after her.

“Ginny!” Keesha cried, “you can’t—”

Ginny turned at the door with a wild look that stopped them all in their tracks.

“I have to get to Harry,” she said in a choked voice. She stepped out of the room, slammed the door, pointed her wand and yelled, _”Colloportus!_ ” The door sealed and, somehow, Ginny ran. She was out the entrance and half-way down the drive before Keesha and the others appeared at the top of the steps leading from the castle. They stood and watched her tear towards the gates.

Ginny had no idea where her strength was coming from, but it didn’t last. By the time she reached the end of the drive she was gasping for breath and staggering more than running. She lurched to a stop and held onto the tall pillar as her chest heaved. Her initial burst was spent; her legs were shaking and everything in her vision was out of focus.

She pushed off from the gates and staggered down the lane towards the village. She tripped crossing the railroad tracks, but caught herself before she fell. She began running again as she passed The Three Broomsticks. People stared from doorways and called out to her. By the time she got to the top of the High Street her legs were about to give out and she thought her heart would burst from her chest. She turned down the lane and banged open the door to the Hog’s Head, leaning against the jamb as everyone in the room looked at her.

Stan was behind the bar filling a mug with mead from the tap. Two Aurors were sitting at the bar, and about a dozen customers sat at tables. Stan’s jaw dropped as he gaped at her and forgot what he was doing until the mug overflowed and mead spilled onto his hand. He put down the mug, and as he shook his hand his eyes went to the back of the room.

Ginny turned. Harry was sitting at his table, his ledger open in front of him. In his left hand he held a bottle of Potio Vitae that was stopped at his lips. He rose and stared at Ginny, a look of wild shock on his face.

“Don’t drink that!” she screamed. She took one step towards him, and her legs folded and she collapsed to the floor. The last thing she remembered was Stan and Harry peering down at her. Harry’s face was very close, and he was holding both of her hands in his. She noticed the Bouquedelle dangling from his neck on its chain, and all went black.

#  #  # #

When Ginny opened her eyes, she saw the red and gold canopy of a four-poster above her; she was in Harry’s bed. Her body felt strange, and she looked down at her arms lying on the comforter, which was pulled up to her chest. She was wearing something that was not hers: a soft, frilly, white flannel nightgown. _This can not be Turquoise’s,_ she thought. _I’m lying in his bed. He would not do that to me._

She raised her head and saw Harry sitting hunched over in a chair near the foot of the bed; his head was bowed, his elbows were on his knees and his hands were clasped against his forehead.

“Harry,” she said; his head jerked up. He stood and took a step towards her, but stopped.

“Are you—are you all right?”

“What time is it? How long have I been here?”

He glanced out the window and she followed his look; the sky was darkening, but there was still light. “It’s about six o’clock. You’ve been out for about five hours.” He looked at her. “Are you okay?” he asked again.

Ginny looked down at herself. She felt clean and a little rested, and her hair was washed and combed, but she was very thirsty. At that moment her stomach gave a loud growl. She giggled and looked at Harry, and he smiled briefly. He took another step towards her. “I’m thirsty,” she said.

He went quickly to his dresser where a pitcher and goblet stood; he filled the goblet.

“What is that?” Ginny said sharply. “It’s not Potio Vitae, is it?”

“It’s pumpkin juice.” He handed her the goblet and stepped back. Ginny drank it down; it tasted wonderful. She closed her eyes and sighed.

Harry moved a step closer, and Ginny opened her eyes. He was watching her, and it seemed to Ginny that he was shaking. When he spoke he sounded frightened.

“Ginny, I—I don’t know what to—what to say.”

She reached her hand to him, but when she saw the nightgown again she stopped. “Whose is this? I never saw it before.”

“Oh. It’s Rosmerta’s.” Ginny let out a breath, and suddenly her heart felt lighter than it had for a month.

Harry stared at his hands as he spoke. “We brought you up here. Stan and me, I mean. You, uh, you . . . you needed a bath, so Stan went and got Rosmerta and she washed you and put that on you.” He pointed to the nightgown. “Then we—uh, Rosmerta and I—we put you in bed. Then she went home, I mean back to the Broomsticks.” He paused and looked at her. “I hope it’s okay.”

Ginny smiled, and a light came into Harry’s eyes that had not been there. “So you didn’t bathe me?” she asked.

“Uh, no. I wasn’t sure if you would like that.”

She reached out her hand again. “Come here.” Harry took another step and held her hand; his was trembling. “Harry, it was poison. The Potio Vitae is being poisoned before it gets here. What happened wasn’t you, it was the poison. It changes you, it makes you just the opposite of what you were. That’s why you’ve been so . . . so angry.”

Harry stared at her, bewildered, and fell to his knees next to the bed.

“Ginny, Ginny. Oh, God, I wanted to cut my hand off.”

He put his head down on the bed and sobbed as though his life was ending. She sat up and put one hand on his heaving shoulders and stroked his hair with the other. She could hear his muffled voice between sobs, saying over and over, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He would not—or could not—stop weeping. Ginny kept her hands on him. The sky outside and the room inside darkened, and still Harry wept.

Ginny finally moved the covers aside and put her feet on the floor. Harry looked at her, but in the darkness she could only see the outline of his face. She took it in her hands and found his lips with hers; they were wet and salty. He did not move, or try to stop her when she stood, but as she took a step and stumbled on rubbery legs, he jumped up and took her by the waist, steadying her.

She put her hand on his shoulder and said, “Light a candle.” Harry was silent; he did not move. “What is it?” she whispered.

“I can’t. I can’t even . . .” His voice choked and he began to weep again.

Ginny grabbed him and pulled him into her arms and kissed him as hard and as deeply as she knew how. Harry was startled, his arms were outstretched, but they slowly closed around her. They embraced for several minutes and their lips did not break apart. Harry finally pulled back with a gasp, and sat down in the chair next to the bed.

“Where’s my wand?” Ginny said in the darkness.

“On the dresser, next to the pitcher,” came Harry’s voice, a little breathless. Ginny walked carefully across the room, felt for her wand, and picked it up. _”Lumos,”_ she said quietly, and a soft light filled the room. She looked at Harry; he was watching her out of red-rimmed, swollen eyes, a dazed look on his face.

Ginny went to the nightstand next to the bed and lit the candle in the veela candlestick with her wand. She started to walk towards him, but suddenly went dizzy and half-sat, half-fell onto the bed.

Harry sprang up. “Are you all right? Lie down.” He helped her put her head on the pillow and pull her legs up onto the bed. Ginny was still for a moment.

“I’m okay. I need something to eat. I haven’t eaten for . . . I don’t know, I can’t remember when.”

Harry stared for a moment, then turned and ran out of the room. Ginny heard him charging out of the flat and down the stairs. Doors slammed; there was silence for a minute, and she heard footsteps come up the stairs more slowly and enter the parlor. Harry reappeared at the bedroom door, carrying a tray. He set it down on the nightstand and pulled the chair up to the head of the bed. “It’s a fresh batch of potato soup, bread, and Winky’s pudding. No.” He pushed her down. “I’ll feed you.”

Ginny smiled and dutifully lay still while Harry spooned hot soup into her mouth. The heat coursed down into her stomach and seemed to radiate instantly through her whole body. He broke off a piece of warm bread and fed her slowly. She finally put up her hand, and Harry put the bread down. Ginny smiled again, sighed, and sank down under the covers. She whispered something but Harry could not hear; he leaned closer.

“Love you,” Ginny murmured into his ear. “Got to . . .” She closed her eyes and was asleep.

Harry moved the candle away from the bed, picked up the tray and took it into the kitchen. He went back to the bedroom and looked down at the angel in his bed. Ginny was on her back, her head turned slightly to one side, her hand resting on the pillow; her hair glowed in the candlelight.

He went to the picture window in the parlor and looked out over the field; the waning moon, about half full, was rising behind it, and its pale light reflected off fences and the bare branches of the elm tree. His mind was filled with turmoil, but suddenly his heart was clear. He knew, at that moment, that he and Ginny would not be here after she left school. But that didn’t matter. It had been a good try, but it wasn’t the best idea for them. They still had to discover what that best idea was. Maybe Ginny would play for the Harpies, and maybe he would join Ron in the Auror program, even—Harry smiled to himself—if the git was a year ahead of him.

He felt a weight lift from his heart, and it was as if everything had become illuminated with a pure golden light. He realized that the terror that had been consuming him was gone. He glanced at the bedroom door and knew that because of the girl asleep in there, nothing in his life would ever keep him from being happy except himself. He had almost lost Ginny; he had done something to her that was beyond horror, yet here she was, asleep in his bed, trusting him completely. She had been trying to tell him for weeks what he needed to do so that he could be happy. It didn’t have anything to do with the inn or the Dark Marks or the dead weasel or the broken glass. It had to do with himself.

He still didn’t understand what Ginny had meant when she said that poison had made him strike her. He didn’t care, though. He only cared about what _he_ had done. Maybe it would take a lifetime to make it up to her, to convince her that it would never happen again, that he would rather be dead than hurt her, but he would take that lifetime if he had to.

When he considered it, he realized that since he had not been drinking Potio Vitae for a week, he couldn’t remember why he had exploded in rage at her. He knew that he had been arguing ever more angrily about the inn and about other things, but he could feel no anger now. It was a puzzle, but he was certain that Ginny would reveal the answer when she awoke.

He walked back into the bedroom; Ginny had not moved. His eyes wandered to her clothes hanging on a hook on the wall. Rosmerta had taken them after she had bathed Ginny and wrestled her limp body into the nightgown—Harry would not touch her, and had left the room—and Rosmerta had cleaned the clothes and hung them up. They had been wretched, just like Ginny; he had never seen her like that: dirty, thin, pale, disheveled, utterly spent. Yet this afternoon she had burst into the inn with that blazing look that would never fail to pierce him like an arrow.

For a while, after they had brought her upstairs and put her in bed, he had feared for her life. He didn’t know what had happened or what to do. Rosmerta had calmed him. Ginny was just completely exhausted, Rosmerta said, she needed someone to take care of her. That, Harry realized, was something he had stopped doing. Whether it was because of this mysterious poison or something in himself was of no concern to him. Tonight he had started taking care of his Ginny again, and she had taken care of him.

He took his wand from his belt, walked over to the bed, and peered down at her. _”Lumos,”_ he whispered, and for the first time in a week the phoenix wand lit. He took the candle from Ginny’s nightstand, flicked the wand, and a vase of red and white roses in full bloom appeared on the little table.

Harry changed into his pajamas, took the candle around to the stand on the other side of the bed, pulled back the covers, and slipped in next to Ginny. Her head was turned away from him, but she murmured in her sleep and her head turned. Her eyes opened; she smiled sleepily at him and closed her eyes again. She rolled onto her side and pressed herself against him and put her arm across his chest; her breathing was deep and steady.

Harry lay in a boiling cauldron of longing and desire. He put his left palm on her hand, and the touch of her skin was like a bolt of magic. His whole body shook so violently he was afraid he would wake her. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Eventually he stopped trembling and opened his eyes again. He felt, next to him, the warm softness of the flannel nightgown and the curves of her body underneath. And then he realized he was engulfed in her fragrance, the utterly overwhelming, flowery scent of the Bouquedelle, which he had not dared to use all week.

Ginny had not moved. Harry looked at her, drinking in her eyelashes, her eyebrows, her nose, her lips, her cheeks. He nuzzled her gently and kissed her brow. As his tears began to flow, he knew that he was as happy as he had ever been in his life; beyond all hope, he had Ginny back. He turned and waved his hand; the candle went out and Harry fell asleep next to Ginny under the warm covers.


	27. Repairs

Harry awoke at first light. He opened his eyes and saw Ginny’s face, inches away; she was still asleep, her mouth slightly open, breathing quietly. He did not move; he wanted the assurance that this was not a dream and his nightmare still a reality.

He remembered so vividly the horror of awakening every morning for the past week, often with the taste of the red rug in his mouth. He had not wanted to get up and look at himself in the mirror, but something compelled him to go downstairs and sit in the dining room all day; it was as if he needed to put himself on display, to punish himself, to force himself to become an object of hatred, exactly what he felt for himself. For long, dark, excruciating hours people watched him and whispered; some of them didn’t bother to whisper, and he heard sickening rumors from Hogwarts about Ginny’s suffering. But he could do nothing about it; fear had utterly paralyzed him, fear that he had lost her, fear of hurting her again, fear of staying alive with this black terror eating his soul.

The world had closed itself against him. Customers who normally spoke to him avoided him, and though he knew that Stan had made a half-hearted effort to defend him, his barkeep seemed to find excuses not to look at him whenever they spoke.  And McPherson remained angry, pecking and nipping aggressively whenever Harry came near.

But now he was lying in bed with Ginny, watching her breathe, seeing her eyes move under her lids; maybe she was dreaming. His hand moved down her side, but he stopped; he was desperate for her, but he didn’t want to awaken her. With an effort, he got out of bed and covered her up. She turned on her back; her hair was splayed on the pillow and Harry could not take his eyes from her. He stood like a statue, speared by her beauty, wanting her more with each passing second. He finally sighed and turned away.

He went into the bathroom and started washing—and thinking. He needed to talk to Stan and Rosmerta right away to warn them about the Potio Vitae, and he needed to think about this personal attack on himself. It should not have been unexpected. He had enemies and he always would; it had been foolish to the point of stupidity to think that they would leave him alone. It did not matter where he was, someone would always be after him; it didn’t have to be a Death Eater bent on revenge, it could be some crazed wizard trying to prove that he was better than the Chosen One. And he could never eliminate the possibility that someone would find out about the Elder Wand.

If he had learned one thing in those cold, dark watches outside that tent last year, or in the Great Hall at the end of the battle, it was that he needed his friends. He needed Ginny, and he needed something more substantial than this fantasy in a couple of rooms over The Hog’s Head.

He finally looked directly into the mirror over the washbasin and smiled at his reflection. He looked past it out the door into the bedroom; he could see the edge of the bed and Ginny’s hand lying outstretched on the pillow. He knew now what he was going to do.

But not right now. As he finished up, it occurred to him with somewhat of a sinking feeling that dozens of people, including Hogwarts students, had drunk poisoned Potio Vitae in either The Hog’s Head or The Three Broomsticks. He and Rosmerta usually split the shipments that came into Hogsmeade, and also traded cases if one or the other ran short. It had the makings of an unpleasant blowup. There was going to be trouble, and if Harry was any judge of wizarding public opinion, he was not going to be as popular in the coming days as he had been, especially in Hogsmeade.

He dressed quickly and went into the parlor, softly closing the bedroom door, and walked over to McPherson. The owl had come back from his night hunt and was preening on his perch near the window. Harry stroked his head. “Good morning, old boy. Ginny’s back, and she forgave me. Are you as happy as I am?”

McPherson clucked once, gave his hand a gentle peck, and went back to his tail feathers. Harry smiled; today everything was making him smile. He went into the kitchen, picked up the tray with Ginny’s unfinished dinner and went downstairs. Winky was well along with the day’s menu, but paused and looked up with a particularly broad smile on her face.

“Ginny Pott— Ginny Weasley is still asleep?” she asked. “Winky has made her favorite breakfast.” The elf shook her head. “Ginny Weasley should not stop eating like we knows she did.”

Some of the stories that Harry had heard about Ginny last week had come from Winky’s not very well concealed muttering whenever Harry was near; she somehow knew about every meal and every class that Ginny had missed. Harry knew that only the magical inhibition of house-elves kept her from saying anything directly. It had only made Harry feel worse, but since he believed that he deserved her scorn, he had just turned away from Winky’s accusatory frowns and gone back to his table in the dining room.

This morning Harry smiled. “You’re right, Winky. Where is Stan? Is he back from Rosmerta’s yet?”

“No, Harry Potter,” replied Winky, who had climbed onto a stool and was applying a tall mountain of whipped cream to the top of a large bowl of strawberries; they were also drenched in strawberry syrup, and there was a side-plate of sausages and bacon. “Stanley Shunpike has gone to see Harriet Smythe.”

Harry looked at the bowl. “That’s for Ginny?”

Winky smiled and batted her huge, brown eyes. “Yes. You takes it up to her when she wakes up. This is for Harry Potter.” She hopped down from her stool and took a plate full of eggs and bacon from the stove. Harry, who had realized he was starving when he saw the strawberries, took the plate and a loaf of bread from a breadbox, and sat next to Winky’s stool. The elf busied herself around the kitchen while Harry wolfed down his breakfast.

He got up and belched. “Thanks, Winky. ‘Scuse me. I’ve got to talk to Madam Rosmerta. If Ginny comes down, tell her I’ll be back soon.”

“Harry Potter should take breakfast to Ginny Weasley! Poor girl.”

“As soon as I come back, I promise.” Harry grinned and left the kitchen. The dining room was empty, the chairs still up on tables and the shutters closed. Outside, the fall morning was crisp and sunny; the weather was matching his mood as though it knew that Ginny was asleep in his bed and would be there when he returned. He waved at the Auror standing at the corner of the inn and went down the High Street, glancing at the Post Office on his way. It was closed, but he peered up at the windows on the second floor—he didn’t know if it was a room or a flat since, thankfully, he had never been up there.

Stan was sitting at a table near the bar when Harry entered The Three Broomsticks. Rosmerta and Harriet Smythe were with him, and Rosmerta was reading a parchment of orders. She looked up and grinned as Harry walked in.

“Morning, Harry. Had a good night’s sleep?”

“Best in a long time. But, um, something’s come up.” He went behind the bar and took an empty bottle of Potio Vitae from the bin where they were kept for return and placed it on the counter. “Someone has been slipping poison into the bottles before they get to Hogsmeade.”

The others stared with varied expressions of shock and disbelief. “Who?” asked Rosmerta. “And why?”

“To kill me. And I don’t know who. My guess would be Death Eaters out for revenge, probably the same crew who did the Dark Marks.”

“My goodness,” Harriet said, “we’ve been serving it to everyone.”

“How do you know all this,” Rosmerta asked grimly.

“After you left yesterday, Ginny slept for a few hours, and when she woke up, she told me. I don’t know yet how she found out. She’s still asleep. But that’s not all.” He came from behind the bar and sat at the table. “Ginny said the poison changes you before it kills you, it makes you hate what you love.” He lifted his right hand and looked at it. “That explains . . .” His voice faltered, and he put his hand down on the table. Rosmerta patted the hand.

“Sounds like Turntongue,” Stan said; they all looked at him.

“Turntongue?” Harry said. “What’s that? I never heard of it.”

“You ‘ear about a lot of things on the Knight Bus. We picked up plenty of blokes who ‘ad plenty to hide, and some of them were probably already on the lam by the time they caught the Bus.”

Rosmerta frowned. “We’ll have to spread the word. It’s not going to be fun, either. We had the Hogsmeade weekend—when was it, two weeks ago?—and there will be some angry parents.”

“I know,” agreed Harry, “but I don’t think any students were affected too much. We would have heard something. Someone would have gone to McGonagall or reported it to the Ministry. And besides, only people with Muggle grandparents or Muggle-borns drank it.” He tapped his finger on the table. “That’s very interesting,” he mused, but suddenly he turned pale. “Oh, Merlin, Hermione!”

“Harry!” Rosmerta grabbed his hand as he started to rise. “I’m sure she’s okay. Lot’s of people drank it, but only you were affected so badly. We would have heard if someone else had . . . I mean, if something really bad had happened.”

“Well . . . I suppose, but I’ve got to tell her.”

“We’ve got to tell everyone. And we’ve got to inform the Ministry right away.”

They batted it around for few more minutes and decided that Rosmerta would go see Professor McGonagall immediately, but would first send an owl to the Ministry of Magic. She went into the back room, and soon they heard an owl hooting away into the distance.  Harry and Rosmerta departed together, leaving Stan and Harriet to sort out the news about Potio Vitae. Rosmerta turned towards the school and Harry walked briskly back to The Hog’s Head.

Something was urging him on, and as he came in sight of the inn he knew what it was. Ginny was leaning out the upstairs parlor window in her nightgown, and Harry noticed, with an intake of breath, how pretty the neckline was. His pace and his pulse quickened and he waved; she smiled back. When he got below the window she leaned farther, and Harry looked quickly around.

“What are you doing?” he said in a loud whisper, pulling at his shirt front and looking around again; no one was in the lane.

“I’m waiting for you. I woke up and I was all alone.”

“I’ll be right there, don’t go away, I’ll be right there.”

Ginny laughed. “Don’t take long.”

Harry ran inside—nodding to the Auror sitting at a table eating breakfast—grabbed the bowl of strawberries and the plate of bacon and sausages, and tore up the stairs. He put the food down on the kitchen table, wiped the sweat from his brow, and walked into the bedroom.

Ginny was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding in front of her the vase of roses Harry had conjured last night. Rosmerta’s nightgown lay folded on the chair next to the bed. Ginny put her nose into the flowers, breathed deeply, and put the vase on the night stand and leaned back on the pillows; she was wearing nothing except her locket. Harry stared with his mouth open, his breathing becoming heavier. Ginny giggled and pushed the covers back. Harry walked to the bed and stood over her.

“I brought you breakfast. Do you want something to eat?”

Ginny nodded. “I’ve never been this hungry before.”

His eyes went up and down her body. “Me either.”

She suddenly stood, threw him down on the bed, and leaped on top of him. “Enough talk,” she said breathlessly, her mouth on his. “You’re wearing way too many clothes.” Buttons popped, zippers tore, fabric ripped, shoes and socks flew across the room, and they were locked together, rolling on the bed.

#   #   #   #

Later in the morning they sat at the kitchen table as Ginny devoured her breakfast; Winky had managed a complicated spell that kept the meat hot and the whipped cream cool. Ginny ate lustily, and Harry, with his elbows on the table and his chin cupped in his hands, watched with a satisfied smile. After a few minutes he got up and poured a glass of pumpkin juice. He gave it to her, sat, and resumed gazing at her. Ginny looked up and smiled. “What?” she said through a mouthful of whipped cream.

“When I woke up and saw you next to me, it was the best morning of my life. Your face was right next to mine, and—”

“Harry.” Ginny put her fork down. “I’m sorry, but that reminds me of something I need to ask you. Did you see anything on my face yesterday, like a . . .” She trailed off, suddenly realizing that this would be painful to him. But she needed to ask; what she had seen in the mirror this morning had been a shock.

“Like a what?” Harry said, puzzled.

She reached across the table for his hand. “Something strange happened. I had a bruise on my face—”

Harry looked aghast and started to speak.

“No!” Ginny cut across him. “Love, it’s okay. I had it all week, but . . . it’s gone.”

Harry looked down. “No, I’m sure I didn’t see anything. If I had, I would have . . .” He looked at her. “You had no bruises when we brought you upstairs. I’m sure Rosmerta would have said something if she had seen any.”

Ginny stared at him. “I’m positive that ten minutes before I got here there was still a bad bruise on my face.”

“What happened ten minutes before you got here?”

“That’s when I found out about the poison.” Ginny told him about being accosted outside the Great Hall, and all the details of the conversation the first-year Slytherins had overheard. “And they all looked at me.” She touched her cheek under her left eye. “Something had to be there.”

Harry put his hand over his face. “I’m sorry, Gin.” He turned away, and Ginny could see tears in his eyes.

“Harry, no.” She jumped up, came around the table, and sat in his lap, taking his face in her hands “It’s all right, it’s all right,” she whispered. “I’m fine, it wasn’t your fault.”

“I know,” he finally managed to get out, “but when I think of you like that, I just . . . I can’t . . .”

“Shush.” She began kissing his face. “Put your arms around me. Oh, I didn’t mean under the nightgown, but . . .”

They returned to the kitchen half an hour later and Ginny resumed her breakfast. The sausages were still warm and Harry took a fork and cut off a bite for himself. “Can’t understand why I’m so hungry,” he grinned.

“You’re insatiable,” Ginny giggled with her mouth stuffed. “You know what I mean.”

Harry sat back and watched her eat; he felt completely at peace, there was absolutely nothing in the world that troubled him right now, not even the mystery of the poison. He was going to find who had done this to Ginny—through him—and he was going to make them pay; he was certain beyond a sliver of a doubt that he would get to the bottom of it. He hadn’t felt this confident about anything since he had faced Tom Riddle in the Great Hall.

“So let me get this straight,” he said. “Zoroaster, Sean, and Abigail overhead those three pissed gits talking about Turntongue, but they didn’t say where _they_ heard it. From what you’ve told me and from what I remember about Jace Kleinhead, there’s no way he could have planned and pulled it off himself.”

Ginny frowned. “Right. But since they’re seventh-years, they could have heard about it someplace outside of school, maybe in Knockturn Alley if they went there on a weekend.”

“Which means that someone out there is blabbing or boasting.”

“But who?”

At that moment there was a soft knock on the door to the stairs, and they heard Hermione’s tentative voice. “Harry? Ginny? Are you in there?”

They looked at each other, at Ginny’s nightgown and Harry’s underwear. Harry got up and called as he went into the bedroom, “Wait a second, we’ll be right there.” He put on the jeans he had been wearing, but had to find his wand to repair the zipper, then grabbed his shirt from the floor, but threw it back down when he saw there were no buttons left on it. He hurriedly found a tee shirt in his dresser and pulled it over his head as he stumbled back into the parlor. Ginny was pulling her hair back and fixing it with a barrette she had stashed someplace or had conjured. They were both barefoot and grinned at each other as Harry opened the door.

Hermione and Ron stood there, and on the stairs behind them were George, Percy, Bill, Fleur and—to Harry and Ginny’s shock—Charlie. They all had worried looks, except Fleur who, as soon as she saw Harry and Ginny, burst out laughing.

“You see?” she said as she pushed past everyone and walked triumphantly into the parlor, “I was right. Whatever trouble zere was is fixed. I have never seen two lovers so ‘appy in my life.”

Harry grinned and pulled Hermione into the room. “Come in, everyone. Charlie, it’s great to see you. We don’t have anything to eat or anyplace to sit, but—”

“Wait, Harry,” said Bill, peering at Ginny’s face for a moment. “We didn’t mean to crash in on you. If you were busy . . .”

“No, no. Ginny was eating breakfast, but—”

“I can finish downstairs,” Ginny said. “You all go, and let me get dressed. I’ll be down in a jiff.”

“Yes, zat is a good idea.” Fleur started shepherding the others out the door. “You and ‘Arry take your time, we will wait in ze dining room, yes?”

Ron was the last to leave, and Harry held him back as Ginny went into the bedroom and closed the door. “You all heard about it?” Harry said.

Ron nodded. “McGonagall sent an owl to Mum and Dad yesterday, and Dad told Bill and he told the rest of us.” He frowned. “What happened? Ginny had a big bruise on her face?”

Harry pressed his lips together. “Did you ever hear of Turntongue?”

“No. What is it? It doesn’t sound like anything nice.”

“It’s a poison. It was being put into the Potio Vitae and that’s why I was so . . . different. I . . . I hit Ginny.”

Ron’s face froze for an instant, and for that instant Harry was not sure how his best mate was going to react. Then Ron’s jaw clenched and his face turned red; he took Harry’s arm. “Who did it, Harry, who were the bastards? I’ll kill them.”

“I don’t know. But go wait downstairs. We’ll be right down and fill you in. Make sure Hermione doesn’t drink any.”

Ron sucked in a breath, nodded, and quickly left. Harry went into the bedroom and heard Ginny in the shower. He paused for a moment, as though torn between two conflicting thoughts. He undressed and went into the bathroom.

When Harry pulled the curtain back, Ginny was humming to herself, rinsing off, and Harry watched the stream of shampoo bubbles run from her bright red hair, cascade down her back and over her oh so attractive and dimpled cheeks. Ginny turned her head and simpered while water ran into her eyes; she blinked.

“Hello. Don’t we have to go downstairs?”

“Eventually.”

Ginny took his hand and Harry stepped into the shower. He pulled the curtain closed and pressed against her and kissed her, squeezing the dimples with his hands. She handed him a bar of soap. “There are places I couldn’t reach.” She closed her eyes, raised her face to the ceiling, and lifted her arms above her head as Harry slowly soaped her front. He put the bar down and ran his hands over everything he had washed.

“This side is nice and clean,” he said, a little hoarsely. “I think I should do your back.” Ginny slowly turned and Harry repeated the process.

“Now it’s my turn.” Ginny’s voice was unnaturally high-pitched. “Back first.” She soaped that side, then moved against him and washed his front with her arms around him. Harry turned to face her and they kissed deeply under the stream of warm water. Harry picked her up so that she was at the proper height, and Ginny wrapped her legs around him. Down in the dining room the Weasleys waited a little longer.

When Harry and Ginny—squeaky clean—went downstairs, the family were all sitting around tables near the Dumbledore’s Army plaques. Standing near the front door, however, was Saliyah Ushujaa in her Head Auror robes and pointed hat. She was talking to the same assistant who had been with her at the Burrow and in Kingsley Shacklebolt’s office. She intercepted Harry.

“I know you want to see your family,” she said quietly, “but can I ask you to spare an hour? It’s very important, in fact it’s urgent.”

“It’s Ginny’s family, but I assume it’s about Turntongue.”

The Auror nodded. “I promise it will be an hour at most.”

“I’ll be waiting,” Ginny said, and started to walk away, but Saliyah stopped her.

“Ginny, I’d like you to come too. If you don’t mind.”

Ginny went to tell her family that she and Harry would be back in an hour. They walked outside with the two Aurors and went across the field, into the back door of the Post Office. The building was closed, but Saliyah showed them into a small room with a table, around which were seated Professors McGonagall and Slughorn, the Auror Sagittaria Slocum, and Madam Rosmerta.

“You all know why I’ve asked you here,” Saliyah said as they sat. “Someone tried to murder Harry with Turntongue, a particularly nasty poison. You could justly argue that Ginny’s life was also in danger because the poison attacks the victim’s most strongly held feeling.” She looked around the table; her face was solemn. “There was a case about five years ago where a woman was poisoned by it and killed her own child, and a few days later she killed herself.” Rosmerta gasped, and Ginny took Harry’s hand.

“I can understand that,” Harry murmured.

“I’m sure you can,” Saliyah said. “Now, the present case has some strange angles, and that’s where I’m hoping you can help, Professor Slughorn. And,” she turned to the Headmistress, “I do want to see those students who were overheard in the Slytherin common room. They could give us very important information.”

“I will insist on being present when you question them,” McGonagall said. “They are under my care, and as far as I can tell they have not committed a crime.”

“That remains to be seen. I’d like to see them this afternoon, if I may. And of course you and Professor Slughorn may attend.” She leaned forward. “Kingsley asked me to gather as much information as I can. It’s urgent. A lot of people may be in danger. My first question is for Professor Slughorn. Why hasn’t anyone other than Harry been affected so dramatically? Forgive me, Harry,” she said to him, “a lot of people noticed how it changed you, but it doesn’t appear that anyone else became violent. I asked the professor to take a few bottles from your stock and from The Three Broomsticks and analyze them. Professor?” She looked at Slughorn.

He cleared his throat and pulled a parchment from his robes; he studied it for a few moments, then spoke.

“The Ministry—” he nodded to Saliyah “— asked me to analyze a few bottles of the drink, and I found something very interesting.” He paused and looked around the circle of faces.

“Yes?” Saliyah prompted.

Slughorn bowed his head to her and glanced down at the parchment. “As I was saying, it’s quite interesting. There are three foreign ingredients in the bottles I examined. One is a mild version of Turntongue. By itself, I don’t believe it was strong enough to cause anyone to become violent. The second is a substance that is commonly used in my profession to enhance the potency of other ingredients. It is called Crescerio, and when used in conjunction with another herb or, as in this case, a poison, it multiplies the effect of the first substance. There’s your answer.” He beamed at Saliyah and sat back, appearing very pleased with himself.

The Auror looked puzzled. “I don’t see how that explains anything, Professor. Dozens of people in Hogsmeade drank it. If it affected all of them the way it affected Harry, we would have seen duels in the streets.”

“Didn’t I mention? The Crescerio itself has to be activated by a spell. It’s ingenious, really. You put Turntongue into the drink, attenuated so no one will notice it, then add Crescerio, which is harmless by itself. And then you activate the Crescerio by casting a Crescendum spell, and the Turntongue becomes lethal.” He beamed again. “The only disadvantage is that the spell works only within a few yards of the Crescerio.”

In the silence, Harry looked at Ginny. “I know who it was.” All eyes went to him. “Turquoise Southeby," he said to the Head Auror. "She was always there, except on weekends because she was afraid of Ginny, and by the end of the weekend I always felt better, not as angry. Find her and test her wand for that spell.”

“I wish I could find her,” Saliyah said, “but no one has seen her for four days.”

“What about that third ingredient?” Harry asked Slughorn.

The Professor frowned. “It’s something I’ve never seen before. Perhaps someone at the Ministry can identify it.”

“I’ll ask them.” Saliyah nodded to her assistant who took out a quill and parchment and wrote on it.

“I have some questions,” Rosmerta said. “How did Turntongue get into the drink in the first place? And is it only in the shipments sent to Hogsmeade?”

“We’re talking to the bottler and to Jake Sipper about that,” Saliyah answered, “but it’s only been a few hours since you warned us, so I don’t have any answers yet.”

“I have a question,” Ginny said. “Why is it that only people with Muggle grandparents like it? Is that part of a plot against people like Harry?”

Saliyah turned to Professor Slughorn. “Any ideas about that? What about that third ingredient?”

“It does sound suspicious, but I have to say I never tried the stuff myself. But for someone to do that . . .” He shook his head. “It would take a very high level of skill.”

Saliyah’s assistant leaned over and whispered into her ear. She nodded and said to Slughorn, “I’d appreciate it if you would look into that, Professor. The Office of Magical Law Enforcement is also investigating it, but your skill and knowledge would be a great help.” He again bowed his head.

Saliyah stood. “If no one has anything else to say, I need to talk to some of your students,” she said to McGonagall. “May we go now?”

The Headmistress gave a short nod. “As long as I am present, as I said.”

“It’s your right as Head of the school.”

They went out the back door, but when Professor McGonagall and the others started around the side of the building, Ginny left Harry and ran after them. Harry watched as Ginny spoke to the Headmistress; they both smiled and Ginny came back. She took his arm as they walked across the field to the inn. “What was that about?” Harry asked.

Ginny looked at him mischievously. “I asked her if I could stay out of school tomorrow. She said yes.”

“Ah,” said Harry; he put his arm around her. “And what were you planning to do on your new holiday?”

“Wear you out.”

“You can try, witch, but I warn you, I’m a wizard of prodigious power. My wand is known far and wide.”

“Oh, really? By whom?”

He stopped; they were a few yards from the lane and the front door of the inn. Harry lifted up her chin and Ginny put her arms around him.

“Only you,” he whispered, “forever.” He kissed her.

“Oi, lovers!” George called from the door. “Can’t it wait? We’re all starving.”

Charlie was also at the door, and when Harry and Ginny walked in he stopped them and looked earnestly at Harry.

“Late last night I got a message from Bill. All anyone knew was that Ginny was hurt. You do understand why we came, don’t you?”

Harry nodded. “I do, and I’m especially glad _you_ came.”

“Whoever did it, Harry, find them. Find them and put them away.”

“I intend to.”

Charlie put an arm around each of their shoulders and escorted them back to the rest of the Weasleys. Ron had told everyone what Harry had told him, and Stan had filled in some more details. When Harry reported what Saliyah and Professor Slughorn had said, heads shook.

“I remember that case of the witch who killed her own child,” Bill said. “It was done by a jealous wizard. He must have been deranged.”

“But what ‘appened to ‘Arry is not derangement,” Fleur declared. “It was vengeance. Someone tried to kill ‘Arry because ‘e ‘as destroyed ze Deat’ Eaters and zere leader. I ‘ate to say even ‘is real name.” Her eyes flashed.

“Don’t you think it was Tangerine Southeby?” Percy asked.

“Turquoise, Perce, Turquoise,” George snickered. “But there had to be others. She couldn’t have done it alone.”

“Pansy Parkinson,” said Ron; Hermione rolled her eyes.

“What is it with you and Pansy,” Ginny asked. “I didn’t know you fancied short girls.” Hermione guffawed.

Charlie banged his mug on the table. “Listen, brothers and sisters, I love spending time with the family, but Hagrid is holding my transportation for me inside a pen in the Forbidden Forest, and I’d like to start back while there’s enough daylight for the beast to land. The Carpathian Mountains can get pretty dark at night.”

Harry spoke to Stan and soon food started issuing from the kitchen. They were about to begin the first course of French onion soup smothered in melted cheese, but Bill stood and raised his bottle of butterbeer; everyone looked at him and silence fell.

“Before we eat his food,” he said, “we owe Harry an explanation.”

“No, you don’t!”  Harry tried to stand, but Ron pulled him down.

“Shut up, mate,” he growled. “No one asked you.” Harry sat, looking grumpy. “Go on, you can ignore him,” Ron said to Bill.

Bill smiled. “Harry, we all came here for one simple reason: we heard that Ginny was in trouble. So now you know what happens when a Weasley is in trouble. A mob descends, and whoever caused the trouble is in bigger trouble. But,” he looked intently at Harry, “not a single one of us ever thought for a moment that you were the cause, and no one thinks it now. We came here for both of you, Harry. For Ginny _and_ you. I never want you to doubt for an instant that the Weasleys will be here for you if you need us.” He looked around the table. “I see two people whose lives you saved. You saved our father’s life. And we all know what you wear around your neck, that little cylinder that Ginny gave you. You may not have been born into this family, Harry, but it _is_ your family.”

“Bravo!” Fleur clapped. She sprang up and ran around to Harry and, to applause and cheers, kissed him on the lips.

Harry grinned at Ron. “You don’t deserve one,” he said smugly.

Fleur kissed Ginny, and everyone started talking and eating. Charlie soon left, but not before giving Harry a rib-cracking hug; he also whispered something to Ginny who blushed a deep Weasley crimson. A half hour later they heard what sounded like a locomotive passing overhead, and knew that Charlie was on his way back to Romania. The rest of the family started leaving, but Fleur took Ginny’s hand before she and Bill departed.

“Can you come to stay wiz us next weekend?” she asked. “Maybe you would like to get away from all zis for a few days. We would love to ‘ave you.”

Harry squeezed his arm around Ginny’s waist. “That would be brilliant,” Ginny said happily.

“Thanks,” Harry grinned.

“No, ‘Arry, t’ank you.” This time she kissed his cheek, and she and Ginny hugged. Bill started to pump Harry’s hand, but stopped and instead gave him a hug only a little less vise-like than Charlie’s. Soon only Ron and Hermione were left, and they all went up to the flat.

They sat on the rug in front of a warm fire. Hermione’s head lay in Ron’s lap, and Harry and Ginny sat side by side leaning back against the love seat. They were all quiet; Ginny ran her fingers slowly through Harry’s hair. The fire cracked and popped, and occasionally McPherson shifted on his perch and made soft clucking sounds.

“Ron,” Harry said. Both Ron and Hermione looked at him.

“What is it, mate?” Ron leaned back on his hands.

“Do you think I could start the Auror program after Christmas?”

Hermione sat up, and Ginny’s hand stopped moving.

“Sure,” Ron said, “that would be bloody fantastic! You won’t have any problem with it, you’ll do great.”

“I don’t know about that, but I can’t stay here. I mean, I can’t run the inn. It’s what started all . . . the bad things.”

Ginny was looking at him with glistening eyes. She said nothing, but put her fingers on her lips and pressed them to his, then leaned her head on his shoulder.

“Don’t say anything yet,” Harry said. “Let me ask around Hogsmeade to see if anyone’s available to manage this place. Who’s running the program now?”

“Percy. And he’s doing a bang-up job. He’s not teaching, but he’s got everything so organized and running so well that Aurors are knocking each other over to get on the staff. He’ll bust when he hears you want to join.”

Harry looked at Ginny. “What do you think?”

“What do I think?” Ginny now had tears running down her cheeks. “I think you just made the best decision in your life. Thank you.” She took his face in her hands and kissed him.

Harry smiled. “The second best decision. The first was deciding to kiss you two years ago.”

Ginny put her arms around his shoulders and leaned into him. As the snog began, Ron and Hermione stood up together. “Well, I think it’s time to be heading on home,” Ron said. “Don’t get up, we’ll find the door ourselves.”

Harry pointed. “It’s over there,” he mumbled, but Ginny put her mouth back on his and they rolled to the floor as Ron and Hermione left; their laughter could be heard until the door closed behind them.

Harry was on top of Ginny; he put his hand on her breast and her eyes closed and her mouth opened. “Alone at last,” he said.

“If they hadn’t left, I would have had to Stun them. Take me into the bedroom, instantly.”

Harry picked her up and carried her to the bed. He started to light the candles, but Ginny pulled him back on top of her. “Not necessary,” she said into his ear. She pulled his shirt out and more fabric ripped. “I want you, Harry, I’ve never wanted you so much. I want you, I want you now.”


	28. A Dinner At Shell Cottage

“Harry?”

“Mmm?”

“Are you awake?”

“Mmm.”

“Can you get me something to drink? A glass of water would be nice.”

“Sure, darling. Do you want anything else?”

“Why don’t you get the water and when you come back I’ll tell you what else I want.”

“I meant, do you want anything else from the kitchen?”

“Not from the kitchen.”

“Then I’ll be right back.”

. . . .

“Thanks, love. I was really thirsty.”

“So, I’m back.”

“I noticed. Come here, kiss me.”

[Pause]

“You haven’t worn me out yet, you know.”

“I can tell. It’s a work in progress. I . . . mmm, oh, Harry!”

[Long pause]

“Ginny?”

“Mmm?”

“You’re so beautiful and you feel so good.”

[Giggle] “This is nice. This is the best holiday I’ve ever had.”

 “Ginny? Let’s celebrate the holiday again.”

[Giggle] “Not worn out yet? Oh, no, you’re not.”

[Long pause]

“Ginny?”

“Mmm?”

“Would you mind getting me a glass of pumpkin juice?”

“Not at all, sweetie.”

. . . .

“Here it is. What were you just looking at?”

“Everything. I love to watch you walk, coming and going. It’s the most beautiful sight on the planet.”

“Which do you like better, coming or going?”

“That’s not a fair question. I don’t want to hurt the feelings of either coming or going.”

“You’re quite the diplomat. Both my coming and my going are flattered.”

“That’s the idea, to have everything be grateful.”

“Everything is extremely grateful, so grateful . . .”

[Long pause]

“Harry?”

“Mmm?”

“Are you sleepy?”

“Mmm.”

“Me, too.”

“Mmm.”

#   #   #   #

They had no idea what hour of the night or day it was, nor did they care. Harry cast a dozen Orchideous spells in front of the picture window and blocked it completely with hundreds of roses, daffodils, carnations, orchids, and tulips. They drew curtains over the other windows and didn’t bother with clothes. Whenever they were hungry, there was food in the kitchen. They spent Sunday night and Monday making love, showering together, bathing each other, lying on the rug in front of the fireplace, or curled up in the love seat.

But things became even more intense when they noticed in the morning (at least they thought it was morning) that their minds and feelings had become connected again. The link had been there during the summer at the Burrow, but they now realized that it had vanished when Harry’s troubles began, when he had started directing his anger at Ginny. Now that the connection was coming back, they both realized how much they had missed it.

The best part was when they made love. They knew exactly what the other one wanted, what touch of the fingers or caress of the lips caused the most pleasure; they could tell the exact moment when the other was about to explode. They began to see as though looking through the other’s eyes. Harry saw the red and gold pattern of the bed’s canopy as Ginny saw it from underneath him, and Ginny saw her own sweaty face, grimacing with pleasure, slightly out of focus because Harry was not wearing his glasses.

They were up most of the night and morning, and in the afternoon they slept. Somehow Ginny awoke in time to take a quick shower, throw on her clothes, and for them both to hurry off to Hogwarts, where they beat the curfew by a few minutes. They clung to each other in the entrance hall, oblivious to Filch’s scowls, growls, and tapping of his foot. Harry watched Ginny climb the marble staircase, and just before she disappeared around the corner they both pressed their fingers to their lips at the same instant.

Harry walked slowly back to the inn. Ginny had actually come pretty close to wearing him out, but he had never been more happily exhausted, walking through the village with a smile on his face. He was surprised when people greeted him and asked how he was feeling. He had expected anger when news about the poison got out, but no one was hostile. When he walked into the inn, a wizard sitting at the bar got up and clapped him on the back, and Tony Trostle came up and totally surprised him with a bear hug. Harry mumbled an embarrassed thanks, but declined invitations to sit down for a drink. Up in the flat he fell face down on the unmade bed and was asleep before his eyes closed.

He didn’t awaken until very late the next day, and lay in bed for a long time remembering every detail of yesterday’s passion. Three days ago he had feared that his life had ended; now he couldn’t believe how happy he was. A load had been lifted the instant he decided to drop the inn, and the decision to enroll in the Auror program felt completely right, although he was concerned about starting it so late. Still, it gave him the feeling that he was taking his destiny back into his own hands. For three months he had been buffeted and manipulated by the plots and schemes of people who wanted to hurt him and Ginny. Now he knew exactly what he was going to do, and he knew that he would succeed.

It was Ginny, he realized with a smile, who had never doubted him, even after he had sunk into a miasma of despair and resignation. It was a wonder that she had remained faithful to their love, but she had always told him that her love for him would never die; now he knew what that meant.

He buried his face in the empty pillow next to him, smelling her fragrance and sweat; he wanted her again. Thoughts of her lips, her skin, her arms and legs, her breasts, swept him away, but he pulled himself back and took a deep breath. He had things to do, and he wanted to get them started.

After showering and dressing he rearranged the flowers that covered the picture window, put them into vases, and placed them around the room, on the mantel, the floor, and the little tables that he and Ginny had picked out in Diagon Alley. As he was standing in the middle of the room admiring his decorative skills, Bailey flew in the open casement window and alighted next to McPherson on his perch. She had a message in her beak, and Harry took it and scratched her head. Ginny had written it between classes.

 

 

 

 

 

> _My sweetest love,_
> 
> _I am still so sleepy. I had a nine o’clock Arithmancy this morning, and I barely made it. I hope you are more rested than I am, although I have to say that being awake is wonderful because I can think of you and remember how you touched me and how happy I was in your arms. That is where I want to be, and it is making it hard for me to concentrate in my classes._
> 
> _I will be very busy today and this evening, catching up (except Defense Against, since they don’t have a teacher yet). I have heard some rumors about the Slytherins, which I don’t want to put into a letter, but since you will be here tomorrow, we can talk about it then (and...?)._
> 
> _I love you more than I can ever tell you, and I want to be with you so I can show you. I live for tomorrow when I will see you again._
> 
> _Your Ginny_

There was a lipstick smudge under her signature; Harry pressed it to his lips and wrote back:

 

 

 

 

 

> _Ginny,_
> 
> _I have been thinking of you ever since I woke up, which was later than you did, I think. I have some things to do today, too. It will be hard because I won’t be able to get you and your “coming and going” out of my mind. Do you know how much I love you? I will tell you again when I see you tomorrow._
> 
> _But tomorrow is so far away! I want to touch you and squeeze you. I want to feel you, all of you, against me. I want to kiss you and never stop._
> 
> _Writing this is making me crazy. I really need to get going. I love you._
> 
> _Harry_

He gave the letter to Bailey—who was busy grooming McPherson’s back feathers—and she flew off looking slightly annoyed. Harry stroked McPherson and smiled. “Sorry, mate, I know how it feels. Go after her if you want.” The owl flapped his wings, gave a loud hoot, and took off out the window. Harry heard his hooting and what sounded like answers from another owl; he turned away feeling satisfied.

He had lots of things he wanted to do today, and the first was to talk to Madam Rosmerta about the inn. He checked with his staff to see how things were going—Stan said they were running out of butterbeer since all the Potio Vitae had been confiscated yesterday by the Ministry—and walked down the High Street to The Three Broomsticks. People called to him when he came inside, and Rosmerta hurried from behind the bar, a butterbeer in hand.

She grabbed his arm. “Harry! Did you hear the news? No, how could you. Come!” She thrust the bottle into his hand, pulled him to a corner table, pushed him into a chair and sat down next to him, leaning forward and speaking in a low voice.

“I just got an owl from Saliyah Ushujaa. They traced the Turntongue. The whole thing was cooked up by Bella Lestrange last year. What a pervert! Molly should get an Order of Merlin.” She chuckled, and became serious again. “It seems that the idea was to make lots of people a little angry and a little frightened. It’s like Slughorn said, the poison wasn’t strong enough to cause violence, just to keep everyone mad at everyone else. Voldemort must have figured he could exploit all that fear and anger to keep people in line.”

Harry stared at her. “My God, that’s unbelievable. Poisoning the whole country, kids, everyone.” He thought a moment. “But they screwed up. Lot’s of people don’t like it, unless they have Muggle grandparents.”

“They didn’t screw up. That’s what Bellatrix wanted. They came up with a potion that somehow reacted to non-magical ancestry and put that in the PV too. It’s the third ingredient that Slughorn couldn’t identify. The funny part is, Saliyah said there’s a story floating around that Voldemort tried it and liked it.”

Harry snorted. “His father was a Muggle.” He shook his head. “It sounds like something Dolores Umbridge would dream up.”

“Exactly. She was head of the . . . what was that place?”

“The Muggle-born Registration Commission. I was there.”

“Well, they gave Potio Vitae to everyone in the Ministry, and if you liked it you were in trouble. Then the Death Eaters set up that fake company, A Witch’s Brew, and started making the Potio Vitae with the poison in it.”

“That doesn’t explain the Crescerio. Someone here in Hogsmeade doctored the PV, but if it was Turquoise, then she didn’t do it by herself. She didn’t have the knowledge, she’s uneducated. She must have had a partner.”

“But at least they solved the mystery of where the Turntongue came from.”

Harry sat back. “Ros, I need your advice about something.”

“Sure, Harry. Advice is free.” She grinned.

He smiled back. “Do you know anyone who could run the inn for me? I want to . . . to try something different.”

Rosmerta cocked her head. “Are you selling?”

Harry hesitated. “Probably, eventually. But . . .” He looked around and dropped his voice. “Please don’t say anything. I don’t want everyone to start bothering me. I just want someone else to manage it for now.”

“That person is right under your nose. Stan Shunpike. To be honest, he’s been running it for the last month. You weren’t in any condition to make rational decisions. Stan made sure you didn’t do anything stupid.”

Harry chuckled. “I did plenty of stupid things, but I guess Stan bailed me out with the inn, and Ginny with everything else.”

Rosmerta smiled. “You’re lucky to have people like that around you.” She shook her head. “No, that’s not true. It’s not luck. People _want_ to help you.” She put her hand on his. “I’m glad you came and talked to me, Harry. I’ll do whatever I can.”

Harry squeezed her hand. “Thanks, Ros. I don’t really understand it. I figured that everyone would be mad at me for bringing all these problems here, but . . .” He looked around at the room. “I guess not.”

“No. Maybe a couple of idiots think that, but people know they can count on you. When they think about what you did last year, how could they be anything but grateful?”

Harry got to  his feet. “So you think Stan could do it? Do you think he would want to?”

She smiled. “Ask him.”

Harry hugged her. “Thanks, Ros, thanks for everything.”

Harry left The Three Broomsticks thinking about the news Rosmerta had told him. He was beginning to wonder about Dolores Umbridge and whether she could have had a hand in his troubles. Could the little toad have done all those things even if she was out of the country? Harry could certainly see that revenge might motivate her; he’d been a thorn in her side going back to his fifth year at Hogwarts.

And Stan as manager of the inn? Well, why not? There was a lot more to the man than a conductor on a wizard bus. He had a head for business, and Harry would certainly be comfortable knowing that he was in charge. Stan and Kreacher got along, and Winky hadn’t threatened him with her ladle lately. Harry decided to think about it for a day or two.

But now he had another task to take care of. He Disapparated to Diagon Alley, ran an errand and spoke briefly to Bill, and finally made a stop at Shell Cottage and talked to Fleur. He returned to the inn just before dinner and up in the flat saw the two owls perched in the elm tree outside the picture window. He opened the casement window on the other side of the room and in a moment Bailey flew in followed by McPherson. Bailey lifted her leg and Harry took the letter.

 

 

 

 

 

> _Darling,_
> 
> _I can’t believe it’s been less than a day since I saw you last. It seems like an eternity. I blew up my cauldron in Professor Slughorn’s class this afternoon because I was thinking of you instead of how many newt eyes to add. Poor Luna’s hair was singed, but she wasn’t hurt. You should stop making me do things like that!_
> 
> _Then again, I really don’t want you to stop distracting me. It makes me feel so close to you, and that is the best feeling in the world._
> 
> _I can’t stop thinking of you. Let me know how your day has been, and everything you did so I can picture all those things in my mind. I love you so much._
> 
> _Ginny_

Harry sat down in the love seat and smiled to himself, thinking of the things that he liked to do to “distract” Ginny. Bailey roused him from his daydream with several loud chirps, and he penned an answer.

 

 

 

 

 

> _My beloved Ginny,_
> 
> _I was just thinking about what I like to do to distract you, and also about what you do to “wear me out.” I don’t know how I can get through the rest of the week without you. I’m sure that by the time you are here on Friday I will be completely insane and ready to be worn out again._
> 
> _Today I talked to Madam Rosmerta about finding someone to run the inn when I start the Auror program. She had a great idea: Stan! But don’t say anything to anyone yet, until I think about it for a while. I like the idea, but I want to be sure. Rosmerta also told me that the Ministry has solved the Turntongue mystery, and the culprit was Bellatrix Lestrange! Riddle wanted to make everyone mad at each other so he could exploit all the discontent, and Bellatrix figured out a way to do it. I’ll explain it more when I see you tomorrow._
> 
> _I will be spending the rest of today and all of tonight doing nothing but thinking of you and your “coming and going.” I hope that when I see you tomorrow I don’t do something too outrageous, but I probably will. So be prepared._
> 
> _I miss you so much. I love you so much._
> 
> _Harry_

The two owls departed together, and Harry went down to the dining room where he ate with Tony and his wife. All the customers were full of the news that had appeared in the afternoon edition of the _Prophet_ about the Potio Vitae affair.

“There’s gonna be a swarm of reporters up here,” Tony grimaced. “I’m surprised they haven’t shown up yet.”

“Patience,” Harry grinned. “They’ll be here just in time for dessert, you watch.”

Sure enough, an hour later as Kreacher was serving the first order of carrot cake, two young wizards and a witch walked into the inn; one of the wizards had a camera. They looked around the dining room and spotted Harry, now sitting by himself all the way in the back, having no luck balancing his ledger which was open in front of him. When the reporters descended on him he closed the ledger and waved at the chairs around his table; they moved backward in unison.

“Have a seat,” Harry gestured. “Can I get you a drink? Potio Vitae?”

They looked at each other, but the witch laughed. “Nice try, Mr. Potter, you won’t get rid of us that easily.”

“It was worth a shot. What can I do for you?”

The reporters interviewed him while the photographer snapped pictures of him, the dining room, the D.A. plaques, and Stan, who was busy behind the bar and wouldn’t show his face to the camera. Harry tried to steer the questions away from his own problems with Potio Vitae, but the witch kept coming back to them. Annoyance replaced tolerance as the witch pressed.

“So, Harry, how badly did you react to Turntongue, not being a pureblood yourself? And what about the rumors that you threw your girlfriend down the stairs after you went on a PV drinking binge?” She smiled sweetly; she had dark brown hair and didn’t wear much makeup, but her demeanor reminded Harry of another reporter.

“Is Rita Skeeter your mother or your role model?” he asked. “Or both?”

The witch clapped her hands. “Oh, I adore her! Did you read that marvelous book she wrote last year about Professor Duddlemore?”

“Yeah, I read that drivel, and if you ask me again about Gin—about what the Turntongue did to me, I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

The male reporter put his hand on her arm. “That’s okay, Mr. Potter, I don’t think we have any more questions.” He pulled the witch out of her chair and pushed her towards the door. “Sorry about that,” he said to Harry before following her. “Cub reporter, a little too impressionable. She’ll be okay.”

Harry followed them to make sure they left, and went to the bar. “I hope that’s over with,” he said to Stan.

The barkeep smiled and poured firewhiskeys that Kreacher reached up for and took to a table where three witches were having dinner. “You ought to be used to it.”

Harry shook his head. “I hate it.” He waited while Stan served butterbeers to two wizards. “Oh, by the way, Stan, I wanted to ask if you could handle things this weekend. We got invited to Shell Cottage, and I’d like to leave Friday evening and come back Sunday afternoon. Is that okay?”

“Sure, ‘Arry, that’s fine. You and Ginny need a vacation. I’m ‘appy to do it.”

“Good. I appreciate it.”

Harry wandered back to his table and the ledger, greeting customers along the way. He gave the ledger another try, but when his vision started to blur and the numbers began floating around on the page, he gave up, but noticed that he felt no frustration like he had in the past; in fact, he didn’t even care. He sat back in his chair and looked around; his customers, many of them his friends, were eating, drinking, laughing, having a good time. He closed the ledger, took it back into the kitchen, and put it in its drawer.

That evening Harry and Ginny exchanged love letters—lust letters, more accurately—and he sent a package of Chocoballs as a good-night present. He took out the Marauder’s Map and watched her dot do a little dance on her bed, wondering whether she was actually standing on it, but deciding she would be bashing her head on the canopy if she was; he would ask her when he saw her at lunch.

He didn’t have to wait until lunchtime to see her the next day. When he approached the castle for his morning Charms lesson, Ginny was waiting at the top of the stairs in front of the great oak doors, and came flying down the steps and threw herself at him. They kissed and stood gazing at each other until they noticed Emma and Claire standing in the drive, watching; they had just come from Care of Magical Creatures.

“At least you’re not snogging,” Emma said. “Hi, Harry. Doesn’t Ginny look good?”

Harry grabbed both girls at once and hugged them. They squealed and laughed as he planted a kiss on each of their cheeks.

“Yes, she looks great, thanks to you two very brave and very smart young witches. True Gryffindors.” He and Ginny both laughed as the girls turned bright red. “Sit with us at lunch,” he said. “You can tell me what’s going on.”

The twins promised and left Harry and Ginny on the steps. “I thought you would meet me at lunch,” Harry said. “Is everything okay?”

“I forgot that I had Defense Against the Dark Arts this morning. No teacher, no class.”

Harry took her hand and they walked into the entrance hall. “There’s no word yet on who’ll replace Pester? They can’t just let it go, it’s the most important class.”

“That’s what we all think. I talked to Hagrid yesterday, and he said they’re taking their time so that they can get it right.”

“They should give up and just hire someone for a year. No one in their right mind will take it for longer.”

“Maybe, but you’re right about it being the most important class. They need to get their act together, and soon.”

They were on their way up to the seventh floor. “What are you going to do while I’m with Flitwick?” Harry asked.

“Do you mind if I ask the Professor if I can watch? Maybe I’d learn something.”

“You just want to distract me. By the way,” he stopped a few yards from Flitwick’s office and looked up and down the empty corridor. “I love you.” He pushed her against a tapestry of a banquet hanging on the wall, and kissed her. Ginny kissed him back, and for several minutes they were oblivious to everything, including the wizards and witches on the tapestry who stopped eating to watch them.

“That’s what I missed,” Ginny cooed into Harry’s ear.

“Me too.” He brushed a lock of her hair from her face. “Well, time for Charms.”

Professor Flitwick was pleased to have Ginny watch the lesson. “And don’t feel shy about joining in,” he added.

“Professor,” Ginny said as Flitwick climbed onto his stool next to his desk, “what’s happening with Defense Against the Dark Arts? Do you know when the class will start again?”

The Professor shook his head. “Sadly, no. The position has a reputation that was unfortunately enhanced by the last holder. We’re trying, Miss Weasley, I assure you.”

“It’s not fair. All I’ve had since my first year is bad luck with that class. I do want to learn something.”

“I’m sorry. As I said, we’re trying. Now,” he turned to Harry, “where were we the last time you were here?”

As the lesson went on, Harry discovered that his spells were almost casting themselves, and Flitwick finally had him try to do all of them non-verbally. Harry glanced at Ginny and smiled when he saw the frown of concentration on her face as she tried to follow the Professor’s wand movements with her own. She looked up and smiled back, but gasped and looked past Harry. Flitwick yelped, and Harry spun around. He and Ginny sprang forward and caught the Professor just as he was about to topple onto the floor: Harry had inadvertently Levitated him without even using his wand, but Ginny’s smile had distracted him, and poor Professor Flitwick had dropped back onto the stool and lost his balance.

“Merlin, I’m sorry!” Harry exclaimed. “Are you okay, Professor?”

Flitwick straightened his waistcoat and cravat and peered at Harry. “I’m fine, Harry, but what on earth happened? You lowered your wand, looked at Miss Weasley, and the next instant I was two feet in the air, a rather startling experience.”

Harry looked at his wand, then at Ginny. “Uh, well . . .” He turned back to Flitwick, “I think I was thinking about . . . um, it’s a little embarrassing, actually.” His face turned red. “I’m sorry, Professor, I’ll be more careful.”

Flitwick eyes twinkled. “Maybe we shouldn’t have the lessons with such an attractive distraction present.” He sat on the stool and conjured a handkerchief which he used to wipe his forehead; when he was done it disappeared. “Let’s call it a day. I need to recover my equilibrium before my next class.”

Harry apologized again, and they hurriedly left. Out in the corridor Ginny burst out laughing. “Harry, what were you thinking? I thought he was going to float up to the ceiling.”

Harry grinned, embarrassed. “I was thinking about the map last night. I saw your dot dancing on the bed, then I imagined you jumping up and down and hitting your head on the canopy.”

Ginny laughed again. “I wasn’t jumping, but I was prancing around. I had to keep my head bent down so I wouldn’t smash it. But Harry, do you realize what you just did? You were imagining me, and you made Flitwick do the same thing.”

They were in front of the Fat Lady, who was reading a book, ignoring them. Harry scratched his head. “I don’t understand. How could that happen?”

“Ask him next time. I think he was too flustered to realize what you had done.”

The Fat Lady’s book snapped shut. “Either go inside or pipe down,” she said. “I’d like some peace and quiet, if you don’t mind.” She sniffed and opened the book again.

“Fried liver and onions.” Ginny made a face, and the portrait swung open. They went inside and Harry stood by the fireplace, leaning against the mantel while Ginny went up to her room to drop off her books. Nobody was there—lunch had already started—and Harry looked around the common room, feeling contented. They went down to the Great Hall and sat next to the twins who had saved two seats for them.

“So tell me how you found out about the Turntongue,” Harry said to them.

“We didn’t really do anything,” answered Claire. “Zoro and Sean told us what they heard those prats say, and we told Keesha and Luna.”

“Some people wouldn’t have done anything,” Harry said. “They would have been too scared, or decided it wasn’t any of their business. You helped fix something that was really bad.”

The girls squirmed, but smiled and looked at each other. “We’re glad,” mumbled Emma.

“So,” Harry turned to Ginny, “what happened to the Slytherins? Ushujaa talked to them, I assume?”

“She did, but there’s only rumors. People are saying that Jace and Serpens were in the Leaky Cauldron with an older cousin of Serpens, and they all got drunk and the cousin told them about the Turntongue. He must have been a Death Eater who got away.”

Harry thought for a moment. “I don’t think so. If he was a Death Eater on the run, he wouldn’t be in a public place like the Leaky Cauldron. Lots of Ministry types must hang out there and someone would spot him. Remember Ron told us that some Death Eaters may have gone underground? I’ll bet the cousin was working with Bellatrix on the Turntongue.”

“That explains everything except for one thing,” Ginny said. “How did this cousin know that _you_ were going to be killed? Bellatrix’s original plot was to nark everyone, not kill you.”

Harry’s brow furrowed. “You’re right, it doesn’t explain that.” He shrugged. “At least we know a little more now. So what happened to Jace and Serpens?”

Ginny grinned. “They have detention every evening for the rest of the term, plus on Saturdays they have to work in the kitchen because of that firewhiskey still. It was in the dungeons near where they tried to jump us. I heard they’ll be cleaning cauldrons without using magic.”

“That’ll be good for their souls,” Harry chortled. “How about Zoro and his friends? They should get medals from the Ministry.”

They turned and looked at the Slytherin table. Two groups of students were sitting there with a gap in the benches between them. Zoroaster, Sean, and Abigail were sitting together at one end of the table with about a dozen others, mostly young. At the other end sat a larger and surlier group of older students.

“It looks like there’s a little rift in Slytherin House,” Harry said. “What a shame. I just hope those kids can stick together.” He turned to the twins. “When you see Sean and Zoro or any of them, tell them that Harry Potter thanks them for doing the right thing.”

The girls nodded solemnly in unison. “We’ve already told them that they were brave,” said Emma.

“They were.”

They finished eating in silence. “I have Transfiguration in a few minutes,” Ginny said. “Are you going back to the inn? I’ll walk you to the gate.”

Harry said goodbye to Emma and Claire, and he and Ginny left. They walked slowly down the drive to the tall pillars and Harry told her about Rosmerta’s suggestion to let Stan manage the inn. They stopped when they got to the gates, and Harry held Ginny; she pressed herself against him.

“I miss you already,” he said. She lifted her face and they kissed.

“I do too,” she whispered. “I love you.”

Harry sighed and took her by her shoulders. “If I don’t stop now, I’ll do something illegal.” They both giggled. “I’ll pick you up at the castle on Friday. We can Disapparate to Shell Cottage from the inn.” Ginny kissed him and started quickly back up the drive. “I love you!” Harry called after her. She looked back and waved with a smile. Harry watched until she disappeared inside the castle doors.

He spent the rest of that day and the next two trying to keep busy. He went to Honeydukes to buy a box of Replenishing Chocolates as a present for Fleur, and stocked up on goodies for Ginny’s nightly gifts. On Thursday he helped Stan sort out the beverage problem; Jake Sipper had been cleared by the Ministry of any suspicion, but Harry asked Stan if he thought they should find a new supplier.

“I don’t think anyone else would be any better,” Stan opined. “Old Tom thought they were all a bunch of crooks. We dealt with Sipper, and at least ‘e usually showed up with the shipments so we could yell at ‘im in person when ‘e screwed up. It didn’t do much good, but it felt better,” he grinned.

“I guess we’ll stay with him,” Harry said. “I still want my money back for that lot of bad PV.”

“‘E’ll probably tell you ‘e was doing us a favor. ‘E’ll make up a story that the rats died because the poison in that lot was stronger.”

Harry chuckled. “If he says that, I’ll drop the whole thing just for giving me a good laugh.”

Stan looked at Harry for a moment. “You know, ‘Arry, Tom never took anything seriously, even when someone got drunk and smashed up the bar with a spell. If you want to run a public place like this, you’ve got to roll with it, otherwise . . . well, otherwise you end up going nutters.”

“Which is exactly what happened. But you’re looking at the new me, Stan. Jake Sipper will be my best mate from now on, and if Turquoise Southeby shows up, I’ll give her a kiss. No,” he laughed, “I’ll shove my wand up her nose like Ginny did and then I’ll kiss her. It would be something for her to fondly remember during her long years in Azkaban.” Stan didn’t smile. “I’m sorry,” Harry said quickly. “I shouldn’t joke about that.”

Stan shrugged and began polishing the counter. “Don’t worry about it. No one who ‘asn’t been there could know what it’s like. I guess she deserves it, but I dunno if I would send anyone there, even if they did try to kill someone.”

Stan didn’t appear to want to talk about it anymore, so Harry went up to the flat and started packing for the weekend, even though they were not leaving until tomorrow. That evening he sent Ginny a package of honey toffees via McPherson, and fell asleep holding the note she sent back that had another smudge of lipstick on it.

On Friday he counted the hours and the minutes, and when he couldn’t stand waiting any longer, he went to the castle. It was only three o’clock, so to pass the time he walked down to Hagrid’s cabin. Hagrid wasn’t there, but Grawp was happy to see him and they spent an interesting hour grunting and talking to each other in bad English. At four, Harry went back to the castle and paced the entrance hall while students and staff came and went and smiled knowingly at him.

Finally, Harry stopped at the base of the marble staircase. Ginny was on her way; he didn’t know how he knew it, but in a minute she appeared at the top of the steps, wearing tight jeans, the dragon-hide jacket that Charlie had given her for her birthday, and a red bandana tied around her hair. She looked beautiful and sexy. When she saw Harry she ran down and jumped from five steps up into his arms. He was acutely aware of her body plastered to his as they snogged.

“Are you ready?” he asked as he slung her satchel over his shoulder. “They’re expecting us around six.” They walked down the drive with their arms around each other, and Ginny chattered about her classes and the Quidditch practice she had called yesterday.

“It was just to stay in shape. We’ll have one more before the holiday, and we’ll start up again in earnest next February.” She grinned up at him. “I got a letter from the Harpies. It’s signed by Gwenog, and I’m going to bring it home at Christmas to make Ron jealous.”

“What’s it say?”

“They have a tryout camp in Holyhead whenever they have openings on the team, and this was the official invitation. Oh, Harry, I can’t believe it!” She danced around him and took his hands and they spun in a circle until they both collapsed laughing in the middle of the lane. Harry leaned over and Ginny grabbed the collar of his jacket and pulled his mouth down on hers.

“Hey, you’re blocking the road!” someone called. They looked up and saw Neville and Keesha walking towards them, and scrambled up.

“You just couldn’t wait to get it on,” Keesha laughed. They started walking together, and Keesha told them they were off on a camping trip to the Isle of Wight for the weekend; they would be collecting specimens for Neville’s classes at the College of Herbology.

“In the middle of winter?” Ginny asked. “You’ll freeze to death.”

“It’s not winter yet,” Keesha said, “and there’s lots of ways to stay warm.” She giggled and Neville blushed.

“I bought a magical tent from Dervish and Banges,” he said. “It’s got warming spells built in. We’re on our way there now to pick it up. And I saw Hermione yesterday and she taught me some of those spells you used last year to keep Muggles away.” He looked at Keesha. “I think we’ll be okay.”

“I think we’ll be great!” she said. “And I’ll come back knowing everything there is to know about brackish water lilies of the Atlantic littoral.” She smiled at Neville and he looked at her proudly.

“We’re off to Shell Cottage for the weekend,” Ginny said.

“Well, you’ll be eating better than us, I suspect,” answered Keesha. “French cooking and all.”

They parted at the top of the High Street. Neville and Keesha went into Dervish and Banges, and Harry and Ginny went around to the back door of the inn and upstairs to the flat. Ginny squealed when she saw the bouquets everywhere; the flat looked like a florist shop. She clapped her hands. “It’s beautiful! Let’s keep it like this, always.”

“If it pleases my lady, that’s the way it will be.” Harry went into the bedroom to get his bags.

“Oh, by the way,” Ginny called, “Fleur asked me to bring my veela necklace. I think she’s planning something special for dinner tomorrow.”

“Really? What will you wear with it?” he said, back in the parlor.

“My party dress, the one you can’t take your eyes off.”

Harry laughed. “Good. It’s easy to take off, and the necklace looks spectacular when it’s the only thing you’re wearing.”

“You just like me naked. I will have to actually wear the dress at dinner, I hope you won’t mind.”

“Not at all.” Harry kissed her and they went downstairs, where they said goodbye to the elves, and Harry checked with Stan one last time. Back in the kitchen they held hands and Disapparated to the front yard of Shell Cottage.

Fleur appeared at the door almost immediately. “Ginny! ‘Arry! Zis is wonderful! Bill will be ‘ome any minute, but I ‘ave started a fire for you. Let me take your bags. Non, non, I insist.” She pulled them from Harry’s grasp. “You are my guests zis weekend and you shall do not’ing but relax and ‘ave a wonderful time.” She took out her wand and the bags floated through the open door and up the stairs.

Ginny took Harry’s arm and smiled happily as Fleur followed the bags and led them to one of the tiny bedrooms on the second floor; it was the room Ginny had used last summer. Now, however, there were frilly curtains in the window, pictures of pretty sea-side cottages on the walls, and a magical throw rug on the floor that looked and felt like real sand. The bed was piled high with thick, down comforters.

“It gets a little cool in ‘ere at night,” Fleur said, “so you must use lots of covers to keep warm. Put your t’ings away, and zen come down. We will wait for Bill and we will open our best bottle of French wine. I am drinking ‘ot chocolate because of zis one.” She patted her abdomen and smiled.

Ginny sat on the bed when Fleur had gone. “It’s small,” she grinned, “like my bed at home. This will be cozy.”

“We do have to keep warm,” Harry sat next to her and put his arm around her.

“Nope, you’ll have to wait, Mr. Potter.” Ginny removed his arm and stood. “For now we’ll stay warm with a glass of wine.”

They went downstairs and joined Fleur in the parlor in front of a crackling fire. Harry gave her the box of Replenishing Chocolates, wrapped in pink tissue paper and a red ribbon. “Zis will be just for me, not Bill. ‘E will beg for some, but I will be strong,” she laughed. The room was warm, and the wine in their glasses glowed a deep ruby red in the light of the flames.

Bill arrived home shortly, and they all sat and talked for an hour. Fleur went into the kitchen and delicious aromas soon wafted out. They sat at the small table and ate by the light of the veela candelabra. Afterwards, they went out back to Dobby’s grave and Harry lay a fresh bouquet that Bill had bought from a Muggle flower shop near Diagon Alley. Harry looked up at the stars in the clear sky and wiped away tears for Dobby, who would never know the beauty of life again.

It was cold, but Harry and Ginny decided to walk down to the beach in their winter cloaks. Harry’s wand lit the way, and they watched the waves break on the sand and marveled as the half-moon rose out of the English Channel. They waited until it was clear of the horizon and went back to the Cottage.

Bill and Fleur had already gone to bed, so they tiptoed upstairs, lit a candle on the dresser, quickly put on pajamas and nightgown and dove under the comforters. They held each other for a few minutes, shivering until their body heat warmed the sheets. Soon after, pajamas and nightgown were on the floor next to the bed. When they finally slept, they slept pressed to each other and dreamed the same dream of starlight on a calm sea.

The smell of cooking bacon awoke them. Bill was sitting at the table reading the _Prophet_ when they came down, but he put it down and smiled. “Did you sleep well? It gets a little chilly upstairs. I hope you were warm enough.”

Ginny blushed. “Plenty warm,” she mumbled as she stuffed a corn muffin into her mouth.

“Do you remember zat little village up ze coast?” Fleur asked from the sink. “Zey are ‘aving a fishing tournament zis weekend, and we t’ought we would all take a walk today to see it.”

“Isn’t that where those gits live,” Harry asked, “the ones we met on the beach?”

“They live nearby,” Bill said, “but their ringleader moved away after what, um, happened. People started to complain about him, even two of his mates. They all got jobs or went back to school. You did a good deed, Harry.”

It was almost noon when they left for the fishing village. The weather had turned cloudy and cold, but the sea breeze brought a fresh salty tang to the air. They bundled up in their heaviest cloaks and walked briskly along the beach. The village was crowded with fishermen and tourists, and the four magical people became attractions themselves, especially Fleur with her long silver hair and bewitching looks. Several of the villagers remembered Harry and Ginny, and welcomed them warmly. The fishing tournament was in full swing, and fishermen were bringing their catches to weighing stations set up along the main street. Harry thought he recognized one of the young men from their encounter on the beach, helping judges with the scales; the man looked at him and Ginny for a moment, but turned away.

After lunch in a rustic inn and enjoying themselves for two hours, they walked back. It began to drizzle as they trudged along the beach, and the snug cottage was a welcome sight when they saw it up on the cliff. Bill stoked the fire, Fleur brewed a pot of tea, and the rest of the afternoon passed in toasty warmth and occasional naps.

As dusk fell, Fleur went into the kitchen to begin preparing dinner, and Bill told Harry and Ginny they would eat in the parlor because Fleur needed more room in the kitchen for all the courses. Ginny went upstairs to change, and when she came down wearing her short, low-cut party dress and the veela necklace, Harry beamed and went halfway up the stairs to meet her.

“It was a little chilly in the room while I was dressing,” she giggled,

“You look fabulous,” Harry said while they were still on the stairs. “Thanks for wearing this.”

Bill set the table and placed the veela candelabra on it; he lit it and extinguished all the other candles around the room. It filled the parlor with a flickering, swirling glow. Ginny’s necklace shimmered and the diamond sparkled with a thousand reflected colors. Harry held a chair for her and she sat. “I’ll be back in a minute,” he said to her. He went upstairs and came down in a few minutes wearing his dress robes. Ginny’s back was to the stairs, and when she turned and saw him she started.

“You didn’t tell me you brought those. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise. This is a special night.”

Ginny’s brow furrowed. “Special? How so?”

Harry gestured around the room. “We were so happy here last summer, and now we’re back, after all the troubles. You are so beautiful, I thought I should look good too.” He touched the diamond resting on her bosom, and then her lips. “Fleur said it would be special, didn’t she?”

Ginny was about to say more, but at that moment Fleur walked in with the first course—bouillabaisse—and Ginny forgot what she was going to say. Course followed course and the veela candelabra cast its silvery glow. Bill kept their wine glasses full, but their afternoon catnaps kept them from becoming sleepy. Finally Bill and Fleur cleared the dishes from the final course—beef flambé in a delicious golden-red sauce—and disappeared into the kitchen.

Harry sat back and sighed.

“Full, love?” Ginny smiled at him. “There’s still dessert.”

Harry smiled back. “Not quite yet.” He stood and Ginny looked at him in surprise.

“What?” she said. “Do you want to take a walk? Isn’t it still raining?”

Harry pulled his chair away from the table and turned Ginny in her seat so that she was facing him. He took something from his pocket and fell to his knees in front of her. He opened his hand; on his palm lay a gold ring with three large mounted rubies surrounded by a dozen diamond chips. When he held it up it flashed in the veela candlelight. Harry paused while Ginny stared at it. She swallowed and looked at him.

‘What is it?” she whispered.

“Ginny, Ginny, I love you so much. Will you marry me?”

The candles pulsed; the room swirled with silver, gold, blue, and white luminance. Ginny’s necklace felt hot on her chest. Her vision swirled and she grabbed the back of her chair to steady herself. She looked down at Harry and saw herself from his eyes, felt the cool ring in his hand, saw her wide-eyed freckled visage staring back at him, smelled the faint aroma of her fragrance in his nostrils, felt his desire for her and saw her face flush in response.

She blinked, was back in herself, and took his hand holding the ring and brought it to her lips. She put her other hand on his cheek as Harry stared up at her, holding his breath.

“Yes,” Ginny whispered, “I will marry you, Harry.”


	29. The Ruby Ring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Half-way through my story, I would like to remind my readers of the two original novels I have published: [Hancock Hill](http://www.hancockhill.net) and [Acting Obsessed](http://www.actingobsessed.com). Both web sites have links to Amazon where you can purchase either Kindle or paperback copies. Thanks!
> 
> # # #

Harry let out his breath and took Ginny’s left hand. With his own hands trembling, he slipped the ring onto her finger. Neither one moved for a long moment as they gazed at the sparkling jewels. Finally Ginny slid off the chair onto her knees, face to face with Harry, and took his hands.

“You are my treasure,” he said. “You waited for me, you saved me. I never want to be without you.”

Ginny’s eyes glistened. “Oh, Harry. This is beautiful!” She held her hand up; the rubies glowed and the diamonds flashed in the candlelight. Ginny laughed and flung her arms around him.

“Where did you get it?” she finally said, holding her hand up again. “And when?”

“In Diagon Alley last Tuesday. When we were there in August I noticed a jewelry store near that bookshop we stopped in. Do you like it?” He grinned and ran his hands up and down her back.

“Oh, Harry! This is . . . it’s so beautiful!” She threw herself at him again and the snog went on for several minutes. “Um, Harry?” Ginny finally said.

“Yes?”

“My knees are killing me.”

Harry looked down; Ginny was kneeling on the wood floor and her dress stopped a good nine inches above her bare knees. He sprang up and pulled her to her feet. The snog resumed and continued until the kitchen door burst opened and Fleur came flying out with Bill right behind.

“‘Ooray! ‘E ‘as asked and she said yes!” Harry and Ginny turned, grinning, and Ginny held up her left hand. “Oh, Ginny, it is magnificent! ‘Arry, you ‘ave found ze perfect ring!”

Bill took Ginny in his arms. He grinned at Harry over her head, then grabbed him and hugged them together. “I really can’t say ‘welcome to the family.’ You’ve been in it for a while.”

Harry beamed, blushed, and put his arm around Ginny; she smiled at him. “I want to tell Mum and Dad,” she said. “Can we stop there on our way back tomorrow?”

“Of course,” said Harry. “Whatever you want. Why don’t we ask all your brothers to be there, then everyone can find out at the same time.”

“Yes! That will be brilliant!” Ginny bounced up and down, then spun around and threw herself into a chair; she looked at Harry, her entire face alight. “Let’s have dessert.”

Fleur brought out a large tray that she suspended in the air next to the table; on it was a pan of cherries over which she poured a cup of delicious-smelling brandy. She lit it with a flourish of her wand, and when the flames died down she served it over bowls of ice cream. Ginny wouldn’t let Harry eat the cherries jubilee by himself; she fed him and kissed away whatever didn’t make it into his mouth. When dessert was finished, Fleur cleared the table and Bill carried it back into the kitchen. He threw a few more logs on the fire, and he and Fleur disappeared upstairs. Harry and Ginny were left alone in the parlor, curled up together in an easy chair with Ginny in his lap.

She kept fingering her ring and holding it up so she could admire it; the smile never left her face. Finally she put her arms around him.

“You totally surprised me. But what made you ask now? A couple of months ago you said it wasn’t the right time.”

“Maybe the same thing that made you say yes. It doesn’t matter to me when we get married, I just want you to know that it’s what I want. The last time I asked it was because I was unhappy. When I realized how happy I am now, that’s when I decided to ask you again.”

“And when did you decide you were so happy?” Ginny said as she unbuttoned three buttons on his shirt and began running her hand over his chest.

“The day you came back to me. After you ate, you were falling asleep and you whispered that you loved me.”

Ginny leaned her head on his chest and sighed. “That was so nice, to be in your bed again.” She paused. “I do know when I want the wedding.”

Harry kissed her hair. “When?”

“Next summer, before our birthdays. It would give us enough time to plan it all.” She giggled. “Do you remember when Charlie was at the inn last weekend? He told me he’d be back for my wedding.”

“So that’s why you blushed. I remember. I thought you looked very pretty with your face all red.”

Ginny slapped his chest. “I can’t help it. I’m a Weasley, we all turn scarlet at the drop of a hat.”

“Yes, you all look pretty when that happens.”

Ginny smacked him again, but Harry kissed her and soon they made their way upstairs. Rain was beating on the window, and the room was even chillier than last night. They quickly undressed and got under the covers, pulling the comforter over their heads. The rubies on Ginny’s ring glowed in the pitch black of their snug little tent.

It was still raining the next day when they awoke, and they spent the morning being regaled by Fleur’s tales of her veela ancestors and the many hearts they broke. Ginny had brought some textbooks with her and she lay propped on her elbows in front of the fire, reading and scratching notes on a long piece of parchment. Every few minutes she held her ring up to the flames and watched the stones sparkle. She looked up at Harry at those moments, and they smiled at each other.

Bill decided to go into Diagon Alley and send owls to the family from there, asking everyone to meet for dinner at the Burrow. He sent a long-distance owl to Charlie, telling him everything, and asking him not to send an owl back until tomorrow. He returned to Shell Cottage just before lunch, pleased with his little plot.

“I ran into George outside Eeylops,” he said as he rubbed his hands together in satisfaction, “and he bought the story. He asked if Lee could come along, and I said yes. The more the merrier.”

“Zis will be so exciting,” Fleur said; she was nibbling on her Replenishing Chocolates but pulled them away when Bill reached for one. “Oi, watch it, mon ami. Zey are not for you. ‘Arry ‘as given zem to me.”

Bill appealed to Harry with a look of supplication, but Harry shrugged. “They’re hers now, mate. You’ll have to figure out a way yourself. I’m helpless in this case.”

Ginny rolled over on her back and looked at her brother. “How is George?” Bill frowned.

“He seems okay, cracking jokes and being flip about everything, but whenever I see Lee in the bank he says that sometimes George locks himself in his bedroom for hours and won’t come out. It’ll take time. It’ll take all of us time.” He stared into the fire and was silent.

“‘E makes jokes because zat is ‘ow ‘e is keeping Fred alive,” said Fleur. “It is ‘is mask. You can see it in ‘is eyes, sometimes zey are still looking for Fred.”

Ginny rolled back onto her stomach and rested her head on her folded arms. “I wish I could be with him. He needs someone to hold him.”

“Zat is true, Ginny. For now ‘e must be comforted by us. And when ‘e is ready and when ze right woman comes along, ‘e will open ‘imself to ‘er and zey will fall in love.”

“I hope so,” Ginny sighed. After a moment she said, “Fred won’t be at our wedding.”

After lunch Harry suggested to Ginny that they take a walk; he felt the melancholy of Fred’s absence seeping into her heart, and thought that a walk might take her mind from it.

She considered for a moment. “Yes, that’s a good idea. I don’t want to be sad now.” They bundled up, Bill cast a waterproof charm over their cloaks, and they set off in the rain along the cliffs. Not wanting to chance the slippery path down to the beach, they walked for an hour on a path above the water until they saw the fishing village ahead and turned back. Ginny was quiet, but Harry sensed her mood lightening. When they got back to the cottage, Ginny wanted to go upstairs.

“Let’s get in bed,” she said as Harry closed the door to their little room, “but let’s just snuggle, okay?” They got under the covers and Harry held her and stroked her hair until they fell asleep, to be awakened in the late afternoon by Fleur’s gentle knock. They dressed, packed their bags, and went downstairs where Bill and Fleur were waiting by the fireplace. Fleur held a tin of Floo powder and they each took a pinch.

“Okay,” Bill said, “everyone knows what to do when we get there?” They all grinned, and Bill led the way to the Burrow. Fleur went next, followed by Harry and Ginny. When she emerged from the kitchen fireplace the room was crowded with her family. Harry, Bill, and Fleur were standing so that no one could get a clear view of her. Harry took her right hand behind his back; he grinned at her, and she put her left hand to her lips and made a shushing noise, but quickly dropped her hand to hide the ring.

Bill had told everyone to be there by five o’clock; it was now five-fifteen. People were sitting and standing around the table, and Molly was at the stove; she turned and smiled at the new arrivals. George was standing next to her.

“Okay, Bill,” he called. “What’s this news you have? You fed us all the same load of cock and bull, so here we are ready to fall for whatever prank you’ve cooked up.”

Ginny peeked from behind Bill. She saw Hermione sitting at the table next to Ron, and she couldn’t help grinning at her. Hermione’s eyebrows arched and she looked slowly from Ginny to Harry and back. A tiny smile appeared on her face, and she put her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands. Ron looked at her with a puzzled expression, but shrugged and went back to his bowl of chowder.

“I didn’t cook up anything,” Bill said, “so hold your paranoia, George. Ginny has something to tell everyone.”

Silence fell. Molly turned from the ladle that was stirring a pot of stew. Ron paused with a spoonful of soup halfway to his mouth. Percy put down the _Prophet_. Lee Jordan glanced around at everyone, unsure of what was happening. Arthur reached back and took his wife’s hand; there was an uncertain look on his face.

Fleur and Bill moved aside, and Ginny stepped forward next to Harry. “Harry gave me something yesterday,” she said. “This.” She held up her left hand and the gold ring with the red and white jewels shone in the light.

The room was totally still for a heartbeat. Then . . . Molly shrieked and rushed around the table, knocking George into the counter next to the sink. Pots and pans clattered to the floor and soapy water sloshed all over George’s pants and shoes as Molly threw herself at Ginny with another shriek. She picked Ginny up in a hug, dropped her and grabbed Harry. She went back to Ginny and engulfed them both in her bosom, tears pouring down her face.

The room was an uproar. Everyone was shouting and laughing except Ron. George had slipped on the soapy floor and crashed into him, shoving Ron’s extensive nose into the bowl, ejecting clam chowder across the table. No one noticed. They were all pushing and shoving to get near Ginny and see her ring. Only Arthur stood back, smiling over everyone’s heads. When Harry looked up and saw him, Arthur nodded, and Harry saw a tear in his eye.

Harry looked quickly away when Hermione began kissing him; Percy was pumping his hand too, and George was pounding his back.

But Ginny was the center of attention. Everyone took her hand in turn, oohing and aahing over the ring and hugging her. Finally Molly embraced her once more; she was sobbing loudly, mopping tears from her face with a dish towel, laughing and crying.

“Oh, my, look at me. Oh, my. Ron, clean up your mess. How on earth will I ever make dinner now?” She dropped into a chair next to Arthur.

“Don’t worry, Mum,” said George, “you sit and we’ll cook. As long as Ron keeps his nose out of the soup, we’ll be okay.”

Ron had finished wiping off his face with another towel and went around the table to Harry; they grinned at each other. Finally Ron took Harry’s shoulders.

“This is brilliant, mate,” Ron said, then lowered his voice, and only Harry, Ginny, and Hermione heard him say, “You are my brother now.”

Harry tried to say something, but he couldn’t get words out. He wiped his eyes and put his own hand on Ron’s shoulder for a moment as he turned his head.

Ginny gave Ron a quick kiss and put her hands on Harry’s chest. Harry kept his face averted but took Ginny around her shoulders and pulled her out of the room; Ron and Hermione followed them into the parlor. When Ron closed the door, Harry broke from Ginny’s embrace and went to the fireplace; he leaned his arms on the mantel and his shoulders shook as the others gathered around him. He spoke in a choked voice.

“Ginny, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin it. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” He turned to her; his eyes were overflowing and when he began to wipe his face with his sleeve, Ginny pushed his arm aside and brushed away his tears with her hand.

“Love, you didn’t ruin anything. You were the one who made everyone so happy.”

Harry’s laugh caught a sob in his throat. “Yeah, by dripping all over your mum’s floor.”

Ginny took him in her arms and rocked him slowly. “Did you see her? She’s beside herself. She’s even letting someone else cook. That’s like an earthquake, Harry.”

They all laughed. “Come on, mate,” Ron said, taking Harry’s arm. “Everyone wants to talk to you. Just be careful,” he grinned. “I guarantee that George and Lee are already planning how to disrupt the wedding.”

Ginny scowled. “If they do, they’ll regret it for the rest of their lives, which won’t be for very long. If I get so much as a sniff of anything—”

“I was joking! I was joking!” Ron said quickly. “What do you think Mum would do to them?”

“I can’t imagine anything that gruesome.” She took Harry’s hand. “Come on, sweetie, now it really is your family and they want to take care of you.”

Harry looked at her, and again his eyes brimmed. “I’m not used to having someone say that to me.” He wiped his face. “Okay, let’s go have dinner with the family.” He put one arm around Ron and the other around Hermione. “I’m ready. Lead on,” he said to Ginny.

They went back into the kitchen where Fleur and George were putting serving dishes on the table; everyone was seated, but Molly sprang up. “Is everything all right, dears? Harry, darling, you mustn’t mind us. Actually, you _are_ us. Sit, sit!” She pulled a chair out, and as he sat she took his head in her hands and planted a huge, sloppy kiss on top. Harry turned beet red.

“Mum, you’re right!” George cried. “Harry’s blushing like a Weasley.”

“I know exactly what you’re thinking, George,” Ginny said darkly and pointed her fork at him. “And you’d better be careful, because I’ll assume that _you_ are the perpetrator if _anything_ happens.”

“Moi?”

Bill interrupted Ginny’s retort by loudly clearing his throat. He looked at his father, who smiled and shook his head. Bill stood and everyone fell silent.

“It seems like we’re always celebrating these two,” he raised his glass to Harry and Ginny, “and I hope we do so many, many more times. But for now . . .” he bowed his head for moment, and when he resumed, his voice was husky. “For now, I can’t begin to express what joy you two have brought us. Our beloved sister is getting married to the one man who is worthy of her. This is one of the happiest days of my life—” Fleur looked up at him and smiled “—and even happier times are yet to come. I raise a toast to Ginny and Harry, the most beautiful couple I have ever known.”

They all raised their glasses and mugs—butterbeer, pumpkin juice, hot cocoa, even water—and toasted Harry and Ginny with “hear, hear!” They were about to start eating when Harry stood.

He looked around the table. “I have to say something. A few minutes ago Ron told me something, and it was the best thing that anyone ever said to me, except when Ginny said yes. He called me . . .” He cleared his throat and looked down. Ginny took his hand, and Harry took a breath. “He called me his brother.”

He stopped again, wiped his cheek, and abruptly sat. Ginny took him into her arms and kissed him. Molly wiped tears from her eyes with her napkin, and began sobbing. Everyone else applauded and Bill reached over and clapped Ron on his back. Fleur, who was sitting next to Ron, kissed him and he turned red.

The rest of dinner was animated and boisterous. It passed quickly, and when they all got up Molly sent everyone into the parlor. George and Fleur stayed to help her, but the rest followed Arthur. Ron threw more logs on the fire and soon it was blazing away.

Harry noticed that Ginny’s father had been quiet during dinner, and now he just sat in a chair away from the fire and listened to the banter and chatter. Soon Percy said his goodbyes, as did George and Lee. A short while later Bill and Fleur left. Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione went up to Ginny’s room and sat on the bed and the floor and talked. Ron had more information for Harry about the Auror program, and Hermione and Ginny put their heads together to talk about the wedding. After an hour they went back downstairs to the kitchen.

“We’ll stop by the inn next Saturday,” said Hermione. “Let’s think about going out someplace to celebrate.” She kissed both Ginny and Harry, and Ron hugged him, slamming his hand on Harry’s back several times. The two looked at each other and Harry returned the hug. Ron and Hermione left, and Harry and Ginny went back into the parlor.

Arthur had moved closer to the fire, and Molly was sitting on the couch with her knitting needles clacking away next to her; she had only two more jumpers to finish for Christmas. Arthur gazed into the fire.

“Harry,” he said, looking at him, “you know that Bill told us about what happened in Hogsmeade.”

“Yes. I assumed that someone would tell you.”

“It was Bill. Harry, I want you to know that Molly and I completely understand what happened. As far as we are concerned, that was not you. We never want you to think otherwise.”

Harry felt Ginny squeeze his hand. “I . . . I appreciate that, Mr. Weasley. Ginny means more to me than . . . than anything I can describe. I promise I’ll always take care of her.”

Arthur smiled. “We know that. That’s why we knew it wasn’t you. We knew as soon as we heard about it that something was wrong.”

Ginny smiled at her father. “I have to get back to school, Dad. I’m supposed to be back by nine. I already got de—I mean, I have a Potions parchment to write.”

They got a final wet embrace from Molly, and Arthur took Harry’s hand in both of his. “We’ll see you soon, son,” he said. Harry and Ginny went into the front yard and Disapparated to the lane just outside the tall gates of Hogwarts.

“Mum wants us to come for dinner next weekend,” Ginny said as they walked up the drive through a foggy drizzle. “She wants to talk about the wedding, but I suspect she’ll have it all completely planned by then.” She laughed. “And Dad asked me about the Bouquedelle. He wondered what happened to it during that week.”

“I wore it the whole time, but I never used it. I was afraid I would want to kill myself.”

“Oh, hush! Don’t talk like that. I never stopped loving you.”

“I never stopped loving _you_.” They were at the foot of the steps to the great oak doors, and turned to each other and laughed. That same phrase had come into both of their heads at the same time, and they both knew it.

“I like that,” Ginny said as she faced him and straightened the collar of his traveling cloak. “I like it when you know what I’m thinking.”

Harry dropped their bags and put his arms around her. “Do you know what I’m thinking now?”

“I don’t need to read your mind to know that,” Ginny purred. It was very dark and she moved her hands down his sides and along his legs. They kissed, and suddenly light flooded out of the castle as Argus Filch flung the doors open. He stood with his arms folded, glowering at them.

“Five minutes, Miss Weasley,” he growled, “unless you’re keen to clean bathrooms next weekend.”

“Thanks for the offer, Mr. Filch,” Ginny called. ‘I’ll give it careful consideration.”

“You do that,” he snarled. “Mr. Potter can join you if he likes.”

Ginny put her hand over Harry’s mouth as they walked past the caretaker; Filch kept the door open, and cold, damp air followed them in and swirled around them as they said goodnight.

“See you on Wednesday,” Harry said. “I’ll send you an owl when I get back to the inn.”

“I’ll be waiting.” Ginny kissed him one last time, and ran up the stairs; she paused at the top and blew him another kiss.

She continued on up and heard the front doors slam, and the castle was still. She climbed to Gryffindor Tower thinking about how happily surprised Luna and Keesha would be, and smiled to herself as she arrived at the portrait and gave the password.

The Fat Lady eyed Ginny’s hand. “What’s that on your finger,” she said with her eyes narrowed. “Did Potter give you that?”

“Open the door,” Ginny said. “It’s late. I’m tired.”

The Fat Lady said nothing, and the portrait swung open. Ginny hurried to her room and found her roommates sitting on their beds, talking about the latest issue of their favorite magazine, _Wizard Watch_ , which apparently had just hit the newsstands with a scoop about a new wizard rock band called The Turntongues. Ginny scowled when she heard the name, but the last thing she wanted now was a conversation with Christina and Sarah. She plopped her satchel down on her bed.

“Is that a ring?” Sarah asked. Christina stopped talking about the Turntongues’ hot lead singer and stared at Ginny, trying to get a look at her hand.

“Um, yeah,” Ginny said.

“Ooo, did Harry give it to you?” Both girls jumped up and came over. “Can we see it?”

Ginny sighed and held up her hand. The girls examined the ring closely, chattering about the size of the rubies and the cut of the diamonds.

“So, are you engaged?” Sarah asked, while both girls looked at her eagerly.

“Yes, we’re engaged, but please don’t tell anyone. I’d like to do it myself.”

“We won’t breathe a word, I promise,” Christina said gleefully. “Oh, this is so exciting! Ginny, you’re the first in our year, unless Neville asked Keesha this weekend, but I don’t think he did because they were camping on some island looking for water lilacs.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Lilies, water lilies, on the Isle of Wight. It’s near Portsmouth.” She went back to unpacking.

“I was in Portsmouth once,” said Sarah as she and Christina walked away. “I didn’t see any islands, though.” She and Christina sat on her bed, giggling and glancing at Ginny every few seconds. She ignored them, but was certain that by the time she got down to breakfast tomorrow, everyone in Hogwarts would know that she and Harry were engaged. There was no helping it, but she still wanted to tell Keesha and Luna—and the twins—herself.

She finished putting her things away, went down to the second landing, and knocked on the door. “Come in!” she heard Emma call.

Ginny opened the door on a scene reminiscent of her room in her own first year. The floor was not visible; it was strewn with clothes, shoes, books, quills, ink pots (one of which was open), hairbrushes, parchments, magazines, Chocolate Frog cards, candy wrappers, dirty dishes from the Great Hall, a bust of a witch that Ginny was certain used to be in the common room—it was now wearing a tall, red, pointed hat. She also saw an empty rubbish can lying on its side, and many other unrecognizable objects. The house-elves must have given up here long ago, Ginny thought.

She decided not to risk a crossing and beckoned to Emma, who was standing in front of a mirror brushing her hair.

“Where’s Claire?” Ginny asked as Emma picked her way across the landfill.

“In the common room. She has to finish a parchment for Hagrid on Pygmy Puffs. I got mine done yesterday. Why, is something wrong?”

Ginny smiled. “No, I have good news, and I want to tell you myself.”

“Yourself? What do you mean?”

“You’ll see.” They were at the bottom of the stairwell, and Ginny held the door. “Go get her, I’ll wait here.” Emma fetched Claire, and Ginny showed them the ring; the girls squealed with delight, and Emma jumped up and hugged Ginny.

“Can we come to the wedding? Where will it be?”

“At my house, and of course you can come. I want all my friends there.”

The twins grabbed each other and bounced with glee. “We can wear our blue dresses!” Emma exclaimed.

“No, let’s get new dresses!” said Claire. “Do you remember those green ones we saw in Grace Brothers?”

“Wait,” Ginny laughed. “Would you like to be flower girls? If you do, then I’ll be picking out your dresses.”

Their eyes bulged, and they both shrieked; everyone in the common room turned. “Oh, Ginny! That would be brilliant!” Emma cried.

“Thank you!” they both said at the same time. They stood beaming at Ginny and she took their hands.

“Now don’t say a word to anyone, not even if they ask you or if they tell you they know already. I’m only telling you, Keesha, and Luna, and right now no one else knows what’s really happening, okay?” The girls nodded. “Good,” Ginny said. “All right, go on up to bed. I have to figure out how to tell Keesha and Luna before the rumor mill starts churning out rubbish.”

Claire went and got her books, and the twins scurried through the door, holding hands and giggling. Ginny sat near a window and tried to think: how could she get to the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw common rooms tonight. It was too late to start wandering around the castle; if Filch caught her, she would be in hot water. But she had a sudden idea. It was totally crazy, but it was worth a shot, and besides, it would be fun.

She hurried up to her room and, sure enough, McPherson was waiting outside the window, perched on the gargoyle. She let him in and quickly scanned the letter from Harry, becoming a little warm when she came to his suggestion for what they could do next Friday night in bed. She put that out of her mind and wrote back:

 

 

 

 

 

> _Harry dearest,_
> 
> _I need your help. I want to go to the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw common rooms tonight to tell Keesha and Luna about our engagement. Both the Fat Lady and my two roommates know, and by now probably every portrait plus everyone in Gryffindor knows. But I want to tell K and L myself. So, do you think that McPherson and Bailey together could bring me your cloak?_
> 
> _I know this is a big favor, and if you don’t want to do it, that’s okay. I’ll understand, and I promise I’ll still help with your idea for Friday night, even though I think it made me blush._
> 
> _I love you._
> 
> _Ginny_

Ginny handed the note to McPherson. “Take this to Harry, but first go to the owlery and get Bailey. Harry may have a big package for you to bring back.” McPherson ducked his head and flew off.

Ginny sat by the window, nervously chewing her fingernails, ignoring the glances from her roommates. She wondered why she was doing this; it wouldn’t be such a big deal if Keesha and Luna found out tomorrow from someone else, even if by then half the school also knew and the story was completely wrong. But they were her best friends at Hogwarts. She _wanted_ to tell them. And she had never done something like this.

Half an hour later there were loud hoots, and Ginny flung the window open. The two owls came through with wings flapping wildly, trying to maneuver with a parcel tied to both of their legs. They crashed to the floor, squawking loudly. Ginny quickly untied the package and the owls flew up to Bailey’s perch, where they began preening their ruffled feathers. Ginny, without looking at Sarah and Christina, took the package to her bed and closed the hangings around her.

She put on her nightgown and a robe, opened the package, and took the cloak out. It was very light and smooth; she had to suppress a giggle when she put her hand inside a fold and saw her comforter through it. She folded it as flat as she could, put it inside her robe, and tied the sash snugly. She waited a few minutes, opened the hangings, got up, and went to the door. Her roommates stopped whispering and watched her go.

She walked down two flights, and when she was certain she could hear no one in the stairwell, pulled the cloak out and flung it over herself. She continued down the stairs and at the bottom pushed the door open a crack. The common room was almost empty, so she quickly slipped out and looked around; no one was looking in her direction. She walked past the dying embers in the fireplace—Dennis Creevey was snoring in the overstuffed chair that had been Harry’s favorite—and, with a final glance back, opened the portrait hole and stepped out.

When it closed behind her the Fat Lady was staring directly at her, but looked wildly around. “Harry Potter!” she shrieked. “I know it’s you! Show yourself!”

Ginny ran; she didn’t want to be nearby if someone came to see why the Fat Lady was screaming like that. She ran until she was down on the fifth floor at the base of the spiral staircase that led to the Ravenclaw tower. Her heart pounding, she looked around and, seeing no one, climbed the stairs. At the top she took off the cloak.

In front of her was a blank wooden door with only a bronze knocker shaped like an eagle. Ginny knew, from Harry’s description of his search for Ravenclaw’s diadem, what to expect, and as she caught her breath, knocked once.

The eagle spoke: “How is love discovered?”

Ginny answered without thinking. “It isn’t discovered. It’s a gift.”

“That is undoubtedly correct,” the voice intoned, and the door swung open.

Ginny walked in and gazed around at the domed ceiling, the high windows, and the bronze-colored hangings. The room was empty except for a girl standing in front of a bookcase with a heavy tome open in her hands. She didn’t look around, but Ginny recognized Orla Quirke, a fifth-year from London, and walked over.

“Orla,” she said; the girl turned.

“Ginny! How on earth did you get in?”

Ginny smiled and shrugged. “I answered the question. Do you know if Luna is still up? I’d like to speak with her.”

“Luna is always up. I’m surprised she isn’t out here. Wait, I’ll go get her.”

She went through a door across the room. Ginny glanced at the books in the bookcase, then walked over and peered up at the statue of Rowena Ravenclaw. The Founder looked down at her serenely, in contrast to the rather severe portrait Ginny had seen in Professor Flitwick’s office.

She heard footsteps and Orla came out with Luna right behind. “Here she is.” The girl waved as Luna blinked several times and looked quizzically at Ginny. She was wearing a bright gold nightgown and a blue night cap. Ginny had to suppress a laugh.

“Why are you here?” Luna asked, hugging something to herself. Ginny looked closely and saw it was a small, brown teddy bear.

Ginny nodded to Orla and pulled Luna into a corner of the room. “I’m having an adventure,” she giggled. “Look.” She held up her ring.

Luna’s eyebrows shot up, making her eyes bulge even more. She tucked the bear under her arm, took Ginny’s hand, and turned it, examining the ring closely. “Rubies and diamonds, maybe five carats altogether, and I’d say . . . 18 carat gold.” She looked at Ginny and frowned. “Are you pregnant?”

Ginny covered her mouth and bent over laughing behind her hand. “Oh, Luna, Luna. No, I’m not pregnant. Harry asked me to marry him. I wanted to tell you before all the stupid rumors started. And I want to tell Keesha too. Why don’t you come with me?”

Luna’s eyes lit up and she hugged the bear again. “Can I? Won’t we get caught?”

Ginny grinned. “Nope. I have Harry’s cloak. Come!”

They looked around the common room; Orla had curled up in an easy chair with her book and was ignoring them. Ginny led Luna to the door, and down the stairs. At the bottom she took out the cloak and put it over them and the teddy bear.

“This reminds me of last year,” Luna said in a stage whisper, “except it’s you and not Harry. And we went up, not down.”

“Shh.” Ginny put her finger to her lips. The corridors were empty, and they stole down to the dungeons, encountering no one. As the castle clock struck eleven, they came to the still life painting near the kitchens that was the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room.

“What do we do now?” Luna whispered.

Ginny took the cloak off. “You keep a lookout, I’ll see if I can figure it out.” Luna looked up and down the corridor, and back at Ginny, who was pressing the various objects in the painting—fruit, flowers, a bowl of nuts. Nothing happened, so Ginny ran her hand around the edge of the frame. Still nothing happened.

Suddenly Luna hissed and Ginny looked at her. “I thought I heard something,” Luna whispered. They both stood still, holding their breaths. Finally, Luna let hers out. “I guess not. Go ahead, keep trying.”

The painting swung back, just like the portrait of the Fat Lady, revealing a round opening and a softly lit room beyond. They looked at each other, and Ginny stepped into the opening. When Luna followed, the painting closed behind her.

In front of them was a room more like the Gryffindor common room than the Ravenclaw. Several cheerful fires burned in fireplaces, and in the center was a large, black, potbelly stove with a crooked metal chimney going up through an opening in the low ceiling; the stove gave off a warm glow that filled the room with comfort. The walls were covered with yellow hangings and a few portraits. Several students were lounging in large overstuffed armchairs and sofas. One of them glanced around and saw Ginny and Luna.

“Ginny! Brilliant!” the boy said and got to his feet. “You opened the painting. Good for you.”  The other students in the room all looked up.

“Hi, Kevin.” Ginny smiled at the fifth-year, Kevin Whitby. “I don’t know how we did it, but it opened for us.”

Kevin peered at Luna, standing behind Ginny. “Hi, Luna. You’re very, um, golden. And I love your hat.”

Luna blinked, but said nothing and hugged her bear. “So,” Kevin continued after a moment, “what brings you to our humble hole?”

“We were looking for Keesha. Is she around?”

“I’ll get her,” a girl called. She got out of her chair and hopped through a round doorway and disappeared inside. In a moment she was back with Keesha, who was wearing a robe over her nightgown.

“Holy Merlin, Ginny!” she exclaimed. “How did you get in? Did someone let you in?” She looked around, but people either shrugged or shook their heads.

“I was running my hands around the painting, and Luna said something. What did you say?” She looked quizzically at Luna.

“Keep trying.”

“Ah!” Keesha smiled. “That’s it, you have to convince it you won’t give up.” She came over to them. “So, why are you here? How was your weekend at Shell Cottage? Warmer and drier than my camping trip, I hope.”

Ginny pulled her towards the entrance with her right hand. “Let’s go outside, I want to show you something.” Luna followed them through the hole and Keesha pushed the painting closed. Ginny held up her left hand and Keesha gasped.

“He popped the question! Oh, Ginny, that’s incredible! Let me see it.” She took Ginny’s hand and examined the ring and grinned. “No such luck on the Isle of Wight. But we did have fun. I even—”

A loud wail echoed down the corridor. They looked up, startled, and they all drew their wands.

“Where did that come from?” Ginny whispered as they looked around.

“Down there, I think.” Luna pointed her wand towards the kitchens and clutched the teddy bear.

The corridor that way was lit by guttering torches mounted on the walls, and the flickering light caused shadows to jump and waver. Ginny, followed by the others, started walking in the direction of the sound, but stopped and reached into her robe. “Here, we’ll use this.” She threw the Invisibility Cloak over all of them, and they continued down the corridor.

Keesha fingered the magical cloth as they walked. “Ginny, what is this? Is this an—”

“Invisibility Cloak,” Ginny finished her sentence in a whisper. “It’s Harry’s. I borrowed it so I could show you my ring tonight, before all the gossip started.”

“I heard that he had something like this. That’s how he got into the Forbidden Forest last year and . . .”

“Right.” Ginny said no more, and Keesha also fell silent.

They passed the picture of the bowl of fruit that opened the door to the kitchen when you tickled the pears. The corridor curved to the left, and entered a long stretch that had only one torch lighting it. They plunged into shadow, and heard the wail again. It was followed by the sound of a muffled voice, and a scream that made them all jump. It was abruptly cut off and the girls stopped and looked at each other, although they could barely make each other out in the gloom. Ginny took a firm grip on her wand and started walking again.

The corridor ended at a cross passage, and they peered down the new corridor. Keesha, on the right, sucked in her breath and grabbed Ginny’s arm. Ginny and Luna looked. The corridor was completely unlit, but about twenty yards away they could see four figures with lit wands, all pointing at bodies lying on the ground against the wall. As they watched, they heard a low voice, almost a hiss, say _”Crucio!”_ and one of the bodies jerked and writhed.

Ginny threw off the Cloak and fired as she ran. _”Stupefy!”_ she screamed; her spell hit the nearest figure in the head and he flew into the air, cracked against the ceiling and fell to the ground. Flashes of red shot past her shoulders as Luna and Keesha also fired, and the corridor echoed with deafening bangs. Another figure went down, and the other two shot spells back. Ginny stopped and knelt only a few yards from them, and now she could see that the attackers were the same four Slytherins who had ambushed her and Luna two months ago. One of them aimed his wand at their captives.

 _”Protego!”_ Ginny shouted, and her Shield covered the bodies lying against the wall. A Stunning spell from Keesha hit the Slytherin and he slammed against the opposite wall. The last one took one look around and ran. Luna’s spell hit him before he had taken three steps; he flew forward ten feet, skidded on his face another five, and lay unmoving. When the echoes of the explosions died out, the corridor was still.

Keesha was the first to reach the bodies lying against the wall. Ginny knelt next to her. “Please,” Keesha whispered, “let them be alive.”

“They are,” said Luna calmly, also kneeling, and still holding her bear.

Ginny lit her wand and cried out, almost dropping her wand. In front of her were the horribly bruised faces and glazed eyes of Sean Allen, Zoroaster Black, and Abigail Abernathy.

“Oh, my God.” Keesha’s voice trembled. “What did they do to them? We have to get help.” She started to stand, but Ginny stopped her.

“Wait! There’s a faster way.” She stood and flourished her wand. _”Expecto Patronum!”_ she said loudly. A silver mist, then a roan mare flew out the end of her wand; the horse pranced nervously a few feet in front of her, tossing its head and neighing. “Madam Pomfrey!” Ginny said in a commanding voice. The mare pawed the ground three times and vanished.

Keesha stared wide-eyed at the spot where the Patronus had been. “Merlin, Ginny, where did you learn that?”

“Dumbledore taught it to the Order of the Phoenix, and I saw my Dad use it when we were hiding at my Aunt’s house. But someone needs to get McGonagall.”

“I’ll go,” said Keesha. “I know shortcuts.”

She started down the corridor, but stopped short when another silver Patronus appeared out of the ceiling and landed gracefully on the floor in front of her. Harry’s stag turned to Ginny and bowed its head. She felt a surge of delight; Harry had been watching on the map, and he would be here soon.

“I don’t think we have to do that,” she said to Keesha. “That’s Harry’s, and he’ll make sure she knows.”

The girls gaped at the stag. “Ginny,” Keesha marveled, “you are astounding, you and Harry both.”

“Yes.”

Ginny moved towards the stag and it stamped its front legs. She was only a foot from it, and could feel warmth and smell a musky scent radiating from its body. She held up her left hand, and the stag stretched its neck and touched her ring with its nose.

An electric shock passed through her and she drew her hand back. When Ginny looked at the ring, the three rubies were blazing as though on fire.


	30. The Kiss of the Stag

The three girls stood transfixed by the silver stag until a moan came from one of the first-years. Luna, who was still kneeling at their side, leaned down and put her hand on Abigail’s forehead. “You’re safe. Madam Pomfrey will be here very soon.”

The girl tried to speak, even though her lips were puffy and bloody, but her mouth wouldn’t work.

“I think her jaw is broken,” Luna said as Ginny and Keesha both knelt next to her. Ginny felt for Abigail’s hand, remembering with a flash of rage looking down on the wreck of Elizabeth Derby’s face six months ago. She looked back at the four figures scattered on the floor and stood. She walked to the nearest and rolled him over on his back with her foot.

“Ginny!” Keesha said sharply. “What are you doing?”

Ginny's eyes blazed. The wand in her hand trembled as she pointed it at Jace Kleinhead’s face. “I want to kill him,” she said between clenched teeth, “but I won’t because if he lives he’ll suffer more.”

They heard running footsteps and looked down the corridor. A figure was racing towards them, a lit wand jogging up and down. In a moment Madam Pomfrey stood before them, surveying the scene.

“What happened?” she gasped, catching her breath. “Whose Patronus was that?” She squatted next to Keesha and Luna and grimaced when she saw the faces of the students lying on the ground. “Merlin’s beard! Who did this?”

“The same ones who tried to do it to us a couple of months ago,” Luna told her. Pomfrey swept the corridor with her eyes, taking in the four bodies lying motionless.

She waved her wand and Abigail’s moans stopped. The girl’s face relaxed, and she looked gratefully at the nurse.  “You’ll be fine, dear,” Pomfrey said. She ran her fingers over the girl’s face, and her expression hardened when she felt Abigail’s jaw. “I told Minerva to expel them,” she muttered.

She moved to Sean and waved her wand over his face, which looked worse than Abigail’s; he was still unconscious and had not moved. “Looks like they gave him some special treatment. Bastards!”

Keesha stared down at Sean, and when Ginny put her arm around her friend’s shoulders she could feel her shaking. Keesha wiped a tear from her cheek. “If they don’t end up in Azkaban, I’ll kill them,” she said.

Ginny squeezed her shoulder, but looked up at the sound of more footsteps, knowing it was Harry. As a lit wand appeared around the corner, the stag tossed its antlers and vanished. Harry was there a few seconds later. “I got here as fast as I could,” he puffed. “Are the kids okay?”

Ginny shook her head. “They’re alive, but they got beat up.”

There were more voices, and another lit wand came towards them; Professor McGonagall arrived, trailed by Professors Sprout and Slughorn. A moment later another wand appeared, lower to the ground, and Professor Flitwick came running up, wheezing, his short legs wobbling; he leaned against the wall as his breath came in short gasps.

“We need to get these three upstairs, Minerva,” Madam Pomfrey said, glaring at the Headmistress. “And it wouldn’t hurt to call for a Healer.”

“Do whatever you have to.” McGonagall looked around, and walked over to the body of Jace Kleinhead and looked at Ginny. “These are the same four?”

Ginny nodded. “Except this time they had easier prey.”

McGonagall dropped her eyes from Ginny’s blaze and walked back to stand next to Madam Pomfrey. “Miss Weasley, can you and your friends and Mr. Potter help Poppy and Pomona get these three up to the hospital wing? The professors and I will take care of those.” She nodded at the still forms of the four boys.

They used Levitating spells to move Sean, Zoroaster, and Abigail down the corridor, up several flights of stairs, and into the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey went ahead to prepare beds, and after the first-years were safe, Professor Sprout Floo’d to St. Mungo’s to fetch a Healer. Ginny watched with Harry, Keesha, and Luna as the nurse tended the three young Slytherins, but they left when Pomfrey told them there was nothing for them to do, and the three would be fine as soon as their broken bones healed.

“They used the Cruciatus on them, Harry,” Ginny growled as they walked downstairs. “They tortured them because they told me about the Turntongue.”

Harry nodded. “McGonagall screwed up, and she knows it. She should have expelled them.”

They walked Luna back to the Ravenclaw staircase and took Keesha down to the Hufflepuff entrance. Ginny hugged her before Keesha went inside. “Sean will be okay,” Ginny assured her. “He’s tough. They all are.”

Keesha had tears in her eyes again. “I meant what I said. Kleinhead is dead meat if I ever see him again.”

Ginny gave Harry the cloak and they went back up to the Gryffindor common room. About a dozen students were up, all in their pajamas. Somehow word had gotten out about the attack.

“Harry, what happened?” Dennis Creevey asked. “We heard some Slytherin first-years got taken to the hospital wing.”

“That’s right, but you’ll have to ask Ginny. I didn’t see any of it.”

They all turned their heads to Ginny. “I was outside the Hufflepuff common room with Luna and Keesha, and—”

“What were you doing there so late at night?” Jimmy Peakes interrupted.

Ginny shrugged. “We were studying late in the library. We heard—”

“In the library?” Jimmy gave her a skeptical look. “I saw you here with the twins at nine-thirty.”

“Jimmy, do you want to know what happened or not? If you do, then shut up.”

Jimmy looked around for support, but everyone ignored him.

“Go on, Ginny,” said Dennis.

“We heard noises coming from past the kitchen, and when we got there, four seventh-years were torturing Sean, Zoro, and Abigail. They beat them up first. We Stunned them, and then we got Madam Pomfrey. Then Professor McGonagall came, and we helped take them up to the hospital wing. That’s all I know.”

“Who were the seventh-years,” Jimmy asked.

Ginny named them, and everyone shook their heads. “They should expel those wankers,” Dennis said. “They used to try to push Colin around too.”

While an animated conversation started up about what should be done with the miscreants, Ginny pulled Harry away. They pushed two chairs together and sat in a corner away from the crowd.

“You were watching on the map?” Ginny asked in a low voice, glancing up to make sure no one was within earshot.

“As soon as I saw you move down the corridor I noticed the kids. I was pretty sure what was happening, so I sent my stag to McGonagall and I ran for the castle.”

“To the rescue again.” Ginny smiled. “Your stag is getting to know the dungeons pretty well.”

Harry grinned back. “You didn’t seem to need much rescuing. Oh, and before I left the inn I told the Auror on duty that students were being attacked in the castle. I don’t know what McGonagall is planning to do, but the Ministry knows something happened.”

“Excellent. Well, you were a busy lad tonight.” She leaned back and stared at him. “I want you,” she whispered. “I’m going to be extremely frustrated tonight.”

Harry took a breath. “So am I.” He looked around. “There’s always the Room of Requirement.”

Ginny closed her eyes and thought about the curtained chambers and the hammocks; she gave a deep sigh. “I think we’d better not. Besides, I haven’t heard that it’s still there.”

“At least I can say good night again.” He leaned forward to kiss her, but Ginny put her hand up.

“I have to tell you something. Your stag touched my ring and made the rubies light up. I thought they were on fire.”

“Touched the ring? How?”

“It was standing in front of me and I reached for it. It put its nose on the ring and it felt like a shock. Was there supposed to be anything special about the rubies?”

“Not that I know of.” Harry took her hand and examined the ring, running his finger over the stones. He looked at Ginny. “A magical ring?”

Ginny put her arms around him. “Of course it’s magical. You gave it to me. Everything you do is magical.” She looked at him teasingly. “You told me yourself you are a wizard of prodigious powers.”

“Yes, I did say that.” He pulled her into his chair and started a snog. When they stopped, Ginny rested her head on his chest.

“You’re not making tonight any less frustrating,” she murmured.

“I know.” Harry took her left hand and looked at her ring. “In less than ten months you’ll be my wife.”

Ginny lifted her head, and suddenly there were tears in her eyes. “Harry, that’s . . . Oh, Merlin.” She put her head back on his chest. “I won’t be able to sleep at all, damn you.” Harry ran his hands down and up her back, and started to run his fingers through her hair. Ginny moaned softly, and did something that made Harry moan. They suddenly both looked around, but the common room was empty.

Ginny heaved another sigh and got to her feet; she pulled him out of the chair and gave him a quick kiss. “We have to stop, or I’ll never survive.” She pushed him towards the portrait hole, but before he opened it, he paused.

“Let me know how the kids are,” he said, “and let me know what happens to the four gits.”

He kissed her one last time and left, and Ginny went up to her dorm. Her roommates were asleep, and Bailey was alone on her perch; apparently she had decided to stay in Ginny’s room tonight. Ginny fell into bed and was soon dreaming of Harry’s stag.

The next morning at breakfast the Great Hall was abuzz over the events of last night. The four seventh-year Slytherins were not there, and the rest of the students at that table ate with their heads down, except for a dozen first- and second-years who seemed to be sitting with their heads higher than usual. Professor McGonagall and the rest of the staff ate with grim expressions. Professor Slughorn was absent, and Dennis told Ginny that he was up in the hospital wing with the injured students.

Emma and Claire were distraught; they were both close to tears, and Ginny sat next to them and tried to console them. She told them what had happened without sparing any details; better to tell the complete truth, she thought, since they would learn it soon enough. When she described Sean’s battered face, Emma broke down and clung to her, sobbing hysterically.

At the end of the meal, Professor McGonagall rose, and all conversations immediately ceased. Ginny could tell that Emma was not the only one who had been crying; the Headmistress waited until only sniffling could be heard, then spoke loudly but calmly.

“Last night in the dungeons three first-year students were attacked, beaten, and tortured by four seventh-years. All seven of them were from the House of Slytherin. The three are in the hospital wing and will completely recover in a few days. The four have been removed from school and will not return.” She sighed and her eyes looked down. “Fortunately, three other students, Ginny Weasley, Keesha Baker, and Luna Lovegood happened to be nearby and were able to stop the attack and subdue the attackers.” There was a stir in the room and Ginny felt many eyes on her.

McGonagall walked from behind the staff table to the Slytherin table and gazed down it. All the students sitting there looked at her, even the older ones at the far end. She spoke directly to them.

“At the beginning of this year, I offered my hand to the ancient House of Slytherin. Some of you did not accept it, and as a result three children, members of your own House, are now in hospital, severely injured. I implore you to look into your hearts and into the faces of your House-mates and reflect on what has happened. I also promise you that expressions of hatred and intolerance will no longer be tolerated at Hogwarts. Your thoughts and your feelings are your own, but your behavior belongs to everyone. Actions and speech that I deem unacceptable will result in immediate probation and discipline. A repetition will result in instant expulsion.”

She sighed again and walked back to her high-backed chair. She stood for a moment, and sat. Ginny thought she looked very tired, and older.

The Hall was quiet as it emptied. Luna beckoned to Ginny in the entrance hall. “Where’s Keesha?” Luna said, looking around. “I have something to tell you.” They found her, ducked back into the Hall, and sat at the Ravenclaw table. Ginny had never seen Luna so animated.

“I saw the Aurors take them away last night,” she whispered dramatically, even though the Great Hall was entirely empty. “One of the windows in my room faces the drive. They were all tied up—the boys, I mean—and when they got outside the gates, they all Disapparated.”

“Good,” Ginny said. “How many Aurors were there?”

“Seven. Did you see how angry the older Slytherins were at breakfast?”

“Yeah, well they can kiss my ass,” Keesha growled. “Frankly, it’s about time someone did something about that House. The Malfoys used to run the Board of Governors, but no more. I just wish someone with more guts than Slughorn was Head.”

Luna stared at Keesha. “You’re quite angry about it.”

“Luna, they’re racist pigs. Why do you think they beat up Sean so badly? Even Draco Malfoy was friends with Blaise Zabini.”

“I didn’t say they weren’t. I just said you were very angry.”

Keesha looked at Ginny and shrugged. “At least they’re gone, and McGonagall is cracking down. I was hoping she would, but I sent my uncle an owl telling him about the whole thing, just in case.”

“Good move,” Ginny said. “And Harry told the Aurors at the inn last night. I suppose McGonagall would have done the same thing without the Ministry knowing, but he wanted to be sure.”

Keesha cocked her head at Ginny. “Harry always seems to know what’s happening over here. How does he do it?”

Ginny hesitated, chewing on her lip, but decided she had to trust these two friends. “He has a magical map that shows where everyone is in the castle. He doesn’t want people to know about it, so please don’t tell anyone. He got it from Fred and George. They nicked it from Filch’s office a while ago. What’s really cool is that Harry’s dad used it when he was here.”

“Sounds brilliant,” Keesha said. “I wish I had something like that.”

“It is rather handy. Well . . .” She glanced around the empty Hall. “Back to reality. We have Potions in fifteen minutes and I want to send an owl to Harry. It’ll be interesting with Jace off in jail.” She and Keesha chuckled and Luna looked thoughtfully into space.

They left the Great Hall. Keesha and Luna went down to the Potions classroom while Ginny ran upstairs to her room and shot off a quick note to Harry, bringing him up to date. She arrived back down in the dungeon classroom just in front of an exhausted Professor Slughorn; he nodded to her, and Ginny took her seat next to Ruth Madison. The Professor wiped his face with his large, elegant handkerchief, and sat behind his bench.

“I didn’t sleep last night,” he said wearily. “Professor McGonagall requested the staff to begin each class this morning by asking if you have any questions. Please feel free to speak.” He looked around.

Ginny folded her arms and said nothing. Ruth glanced at her; Salvador Chambers and Hector Freeman shifted in their seats, and Hector raised his hand. “Some of us saw Aurors taking students away last night.”

Slughorn wiped his face again. “That’s right. They were taken to the Ministry of Magic where they are being held while the, uh, events of last night are investigated. If it is determined that a crime was committed, they will be charged.”

Keesha snorted and everyone looked at her. “If? Who thinks there wasn’t a crime?”

“Obviously there was a crime, Miss Baker.” The handkerchief was becoming soaked. “I only meant that procedures must be followed. I have no doubt that they will be charged with serious offenses. They are all over the legal age, so there will be a formal trial.” He visibly sagged when he said those words, and Ginny felt sorry for him. The man must have much on his conscience, going back to his revelations to Tom Riddle about Horcruxes. Last year his House was disgraced by its treachery before the battle, and now four of his students were in jail. But there was also hope, because three Slytherins had risked their lives for Harry. She raised her hand.

“Professor, Sean, Zoro, and Abigail were attacked because they tried to help Harry. And me.”

The Professor smiled softly at Ginny, and Ruth, Salvador, and Hector looked at her in surprise.

“I see that some of you don’t know the full circumstances,” Slughorn said, visibly relaxing. “Yes, Miss Weasley is quite right. Harry Potter was being poisoned with Turntongue—I know everyone has heard about the Potio Vitae episode—and the three young students overheard Mr. Kleinhead and others talking about it. If they had not spoken up, Mr. Potter might not have survived.” He put away his handkerchief. “If no one else has anything to say, we should get on with our lesson.”

As they were filing out an hour later, a first-year Hufflepuff girl approached Keesha and handed her a parchment. “It’s for the three of you,” she said.

Keesha read the note. “McGonagall wants us to have lunch in her office.” She looked at the other two. “I’ll bet it’s Aurors.”

She thanked the girl, and the three of them went up to the library. They all had homework, and Ginny and Keesha were a little behind because they had been away over the weekend. Ginny and Luna had Herbology next period, and Keesha had History of Magic; they agreed to meet in the entrance hall before lunch and go to the Headmistress’s office together.

Just before noon they stood in front of the stone gargoyle and tried various Scottish-related phrases, but nothing worked. As the school clock struck twelve, Harry walked up, and after kissing Ginny he grinned and turned to the gargoyle.

“Smoked salmon!” he cried, and the spiral stairs appeared. “She’s branching out into food,” Harry said as they ascended. “Too many people were guessing the passwords.”

“So how do you come to know it?” Ginny asked; she was holding his arm, delightfully surprised to see him.

“I’m special,” Harry laughed. “Actually, Saliyah told me this morning. She’s here.”

They knocked on the doors and entered when Professor McGonagall called them in. She was seated behind her desk, upon which a sleeping gray tabby was stretched out. Saliyah Ushujaa and her assistant were there, as were Sagittaria Slocum—the Auror in charge of the detail guarding the inn—Professor Slughorn, Madam Pomfrey, and two older wizards wearing the plum robes of the Wizengamot. Ginny recognized one, Tiberius Ogden, a friend of her father’s who had resigned from the Wizengamot in protest when Fudge appointed Umbridge as High Inquisitor of Hogwarts. He had obviously been reinstated, and he nodded to Ginny as she sat. She did not know the other Warlock.

She noticed that Harry was gazing upward with a smile on his face; she followed his look and saw Professor Dumbledore sitting in a large chair in his portrait, his eyes twinkling and his hands folded in his lap. Ginny could swear that he winked at her.

The Headmistress began speaking. “Thank you all for coming. Luncheon will be up soon. For those of you who don’t know them, these are Warlocks Tiberius Ogden and Franklin Farnsworth. Auror Ushujaa asked them to be here because of the seriousness of the crimes. And I wanted to hold this meeting during the lunch hour so that the students and professors would not miss class time, and so that it may end expeditiously.” She proceeded to introduce everyone else, including Dumbledore. Finally she nodded to Saliyah. “I turn this meeting over to you, Head Auror.”

The assistant took out a roll of parchment and a quill. Saliyah looked at Luna. “Miss Lovegood, please tell us what you saw when you were down in that corridor.”

Luna sat up with a start; she had been gazing at the cat, which had awakened and was cleaning its ears and face with a paw. Now Luna stared open-mouthed at the Auror. The assistant made a small grunting noise and rolled her eyes.

“Miss Lovegood? What did you see in the corridor?” Saliyah repeated.

“Four boys standing up and three bodies on the ground. That is, until we Stunned them, then there were seven bodies on the ground.”

“I see.” Saliyah paused. “What were the, um, the standing boys doing? I mean, when they were still standing?”

“They were directing spells at the ones on the ground. One of them, Serpens Lestrange, used the Cruciatus. It was awful, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

“You said you fired spells. Did you hit any of them?”

“Damn right I did.”

Ginny felt Harry’s body start to shake next to her. She tried to contain her own laughter, but finally had to cover it up with a fit of coughing. That caused both Harry and Keesha to break up, and soon all three were hacking away and pounding each other’s back. Luna watched them with a mildly amused smile, while the others stared with bemusement or, in the case of Professor McGonagall, irritation. Ginny finally got control of herself and wiped tears from her face, but she looked at Luna and this time she burst out laughing.

“I—I’m s-sorry,” she managed to get out. “It’s not funny, I know. Ahem.” She cleared her throat, put on as serious an expression as she could muster, and sat up straight. She knew that if she looked at anyone she would start laughing again, so she stared at the wall behind McGonagall’s desk, and found her eyes locked with Professor Dumbledore’s bright blues.

He nodded to her, and this time definitely winked; Ginny felt herself blush, and was only vaguely aware of the questions that Saliyah was asking Luna and Keesha, or their answers. Dumbledore started twisting his fingers together, and Ginny realized he was pointing to his ring finger. She smiled and held up her ring; Dumbledore beamed and nodded, then raised his hand and gave her a thumbs up.

Ginny suddenly became aware that the room was silent and that everyone was looking at her. She blushed again—this time a deep Weasley scarlet—and quickly lowered her hand to her lap. Dumbledore cleared his throat and leaned forward in his chair.

“I’m so sorry, Madam Auror,” he said to Saliyah, “I didn’t mean to interrupt your interrogation. I was just admiring Miss Weasley’s ring. It’s quite stunning.” He folded his hands in his lap and sat back.

The Auror looked at the old headmaster for a moment and glared at Ginny. “If we may, Miss Weasley? There are four prisoners waiting in the dungeons of the Ministry, and I think we all want to see justice proceed as quickly as possible.”

“I’m sorry.” Ginny mumbled; Harry patted her hand. “Please, go on.”

“Thank you. Now, Miss Baker was telling us that you were standing in the corridor that runs past the kitchen, and you saw lit wands. What did you do then?”

Ginny described the fight and how she sent her Patronus to fetch Madam Pomfrey. Saliyah asked her and Harry about Turntongue and how they had found out that Harry was being poisoned. Professor Slughorn recounted his explanation of how the poison had been activated. Finally Saliyah turned to the Warlocks.

“That sums it up,” she said. “I did not ask the two girls who were originally told about the Turntongue plot to be here. They are first-years and I would only question them if their parents were present, but they are Muggles, and I cannot decide on my own to involve them. As you know, I’ve asked Minister Shacklebolt to help me with that. Professor McGonagall,” she turned to the Headmistress, “I would appreciate your input.”

Before McGonagall could respond, Ginny spoke. “I don’t think Emma and Claire should be involved at all. At breakfast this morning Emma broke down. They were very friendly with Sean and Zoro, and very upset. All they did was pass on to Luna and Keesha what the boys and Abigail said.”

“I agree,” said Professor McGonagall. “There is no need to question the Athair twins. Does anyone else wish to say or ask anything? I believe our lunch has arrived.” She stood and gestured to a table behind them that had not been there before; it held platters of sandwiches, pitchers of pumpkin juice, and a large assortment of pastries.

While Ginny was wolfing down a corned beef sandwich, she noticed that Professor Dumbledore was watching her. She tugged on Harry’s sleeve, but he was talking to the two Warlocks. She walked behind McGonagall’s desk and smiled up at the portrait. Dumbledore’s eyes were twinkling more than ever.

“Congratulations, my dear,” he said. “I apologize if I caused you embarrassment a few minutes ago, but I was delighted when I noticed your ring. It’s magnificent! I’m so pleased for you and Harry. The wedding will be at the Burrow, I presume?”

“Oh, yes, of course. I wouldn’t have it anyplace else.”

“Ah. I must ask a favor, then. Since I cannot be there, do you think you and Harry could stop by the castle after the wedding? I would dearly love to see you when you are married.”

“Of course we can. I know Harry will want to.” She turned and saw Harry watching them; he started to walk over, but when she looked back at the portrait, Dumbledore had a distant, almost sad expression. He quickly smiled at her and leaned back in his chair. “Are you all right, Professor?” Ginny asked.

Dumbledore laughed. “Now that’s an interesting question to ask of someone in my condition. Yes, Ginny, I’m fine. I was indulging in a silly regret, of which I think you and Harry will have few.”

Harry had come to stand next to Ginny with his arm around her. “Professor Dumbledore asked us to come see him after the wedding,” Ginny said to Harry. “I’d like to do that.”

“That’s the first thing we’ll do,” Harry said. Dumbledore smiled and winked at Ginny again.

The students and Harry soon left, and on their way downstairs they talked about what had just happened. “Those two Warlocks didn’t say much,” said Ginny, “but I guess if there’s going to be a trial they have to be careful.”

“It was all very interesting,” Luna said. “I wouldn’t mind seeing the trial. I’ve never been to one.”

“Just throw them in Azkaban,” muttered Keesha. “What do they need a trial for?”

“Did you notice how fast McGonagall ended the meeting?” Harry said. “She’s probably blaming herself for what happened.”

“She could have handled it better,” said Ginny, “but no one’s to blame except those four prats, unless someone else put them up to it.”

“I’m sure that’s what happened,” Luna said. “They’re cowards, so someone threatened them with something worse than prison, and that’s why they did it.”

Ginny looked at Harry, who was frowning at Luna. He glanced at Ginny. “If someone’s behind them, and if Turquoise Southeby wasn’t working alone, then I’ll bet the same person is behind everything.”

“Or persons,” said Luna.

Harry shrugged. “Whoever it is, the Ministry should be able to find them, now that they have those four in their hands.”

Luna and Keesha turned into their Transfiguration classroom, but Ginny walked Harry down to the entrance hall. “What a nice surprise to see you,” she said between snogs. “Now it’s just two days until I see you again.”

“And it’s only four weeks until your Christmas hol. Maybe you can spend part of it at the inn.”

“Hmm. That’s an idea I hadn’t thought of. Mum won’t be happy, though.”

“It’s just a suggestion. I’ll go wherever you want us to go.”

She gave him another kiss. “I love you, Harry. Write me lots of owls tonight.” She skipped lightly away and waved to him as she ran up the marble staircase to her class.

When Ginny went to dinner that evening the major news event in the Great Hall was still the attack. Now several rumors were floating around: the seventh-years were already in Azkaban; the three first-years were dead; the three first-years had been sent to St. Mungo’s; and the three first-years would make a grand appearance in the Great Hall during dinner. No one seemed to care that most of the rumors were mutually contradictory.

Ginny realized during the meal that the events had kept her engagement to Harry off the front page, so to speak. She made this pleasant discovery when she handed Romilda Vane a pitcher of pumpkin juice and Romilda looked directly at the ring without batting an eye; she was in a rumor-induced fog, chattering away about the perfidy of the House of Slytherin. Ginny had no intention of hiding the ring, but she was certainly glad not to be pestered about it.

On Wednesday she met Harry in the entrance hall when he arrived for his Charms lesson, but this time she waited in the common room for it to end since she did not want to distract him again—there was no telling what might happen to Professor Flitwick if Harry started thinking about snogging or worse. When Harry came back—she had given him the password—they curled up together on a couch in a corner. After fifteen minutes of heavy snogging, Harry rolled on his side and took a breath; his shirt was pulled out of his jeans, his hair went in every direction, and his eyes were glassy. He picked up his eyeglasses from the floor and put them on.

“I won’t make it till Friday,” he groaned. “If you hear an explosion from Hogsmeade, it’s me.”

“I’ll be listening closely,” Ginny laughed, only slightly less disarranged than Harry. She sat up and looked around; the common room was empty. “I think we’re missing lunch. Are you hungry? Whoops! Wrong question.”

Harry had pulled her back down, but she fought him off. “You’ll just have to risk an explosion,” she said as she got to her feet and straightened her clothes. “I’m hungry for food.”

“I guess I am too. Trying to balance on that couch was tricky, it took a lot out of me.”

They joined Emma and Claire at the Gryffindor table; the twins were feeling much better, having been told personally by Professor McGonagall that their friends would be out of the hospital wing today. Harry’s presence with Ginny in the Great Hall ignited a bonfire of interest in their engagement, which was now well known. Girls especially seemed to find reasons to walk past them but slow down long enough to crane their necks to see Ginny’s ring. The twins waxed indignant, and Emma told several younger ones to “bugger off.” Harry and Ginny laughed, and eventually the parade petered out. They said goodbye in the entrance hall and Harry returned to Hogsmeade after promising Ginny he would try not to explode.

At dinner there was a general atmosphere of anticipation, and when Sean, Zoroaster, and Abigail walked in, a huge cheer went up. Emma and Claire climbed on their bench and jumped up and down, waving their arms and screaming. The three students were smiling and very embarrassed. Their bruises were gone, as far as Ginny could see. They sat at the Slytherin table and were welcomed with hugs and slaps on the back from the group that sat at the front of the table; the older Slytherins at the other end looked at each other, and then some of them began to applaud too. At the staff table, Professor Slughorn smiled, then wiped his brow with his green and silver napkin.

When dinner was over, and Ginny was walking out of the Great Hall, Zoroaster stepped in front of her. Past him, Ginny saw Sean and Abigail as well as Luna, Keesha, Emma, and Claire. Ginny took Zoro’s extended hand and they joined the others; a crowd of students surrounded them.

Ginny squeezed Zoro’s hand. “It’s so good to see you. Are you all completely healed?”

“Yeah, we’re fine.” He looked down at his feet, then at Sean and Abigail. “We just wanted to thank you. I guess you saved our lives.”

“I’m glad we were there,” said Ginny. She hugged him and the students around them applauded. “Just returning the favor.” Everyone laughed. “Have you been in your common room yet?”

“No, but I’m not afraid. That lot was the worst, and I don’t think anyone else will bother us. Besides,” he grinned at Sean and Abigail, “they know who our friends are.”

When they walked away towards the stairs to the Slytherin common room, everyone cheered again. Ginny went upstairs with Emma and Claire; Sean and Zoro had given each of them a self-conscious kiss on the cheek, and the twins were bubbling over. Ginny left them at their room and could hear them jabbering all the way up to the sixth level.

She got her books and went back to the library and studied for a few hours. McPherson was waiting with a note and a package of chocolates when she got back to her room, and for another hour the owls whizzed back and forth between Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, bearing love letters that grew hotter and hotter with each exchange. Ginny knew that the owl traffic was annoying her roommates but she didn’t care. Finally, she and Harry bade each other goodnight and Ginny pulled her hangings shut and lay in her bed.

She breathed a big sigh. It was already an eventful week, and it was only half over. She rolled onto her stomach and hugged her pillow; her heart was full. Harry had never been more loving, and all the decisions he had made in the last week—to give up the inn, to enroll in the Auror program, and to ask her to marry him—had made her happy almost beyond belief. And the attack in the cellar, as horrible as it was, had ended up bringing all four Houses together in a way she had never seen in all her seven years at Hogwarts.

She raised herself on her elbows and opened her locket; Harry’s emerald eyes gleamed at her. She closed the locket and held her ring next to it and compared the rubies. The ones in the ring were much larger and, ever since the stag had touched them, contained a glow deep inside. She kissed the locket and then the ring.

Sarah screamed, and then Christina. Ginny flung her hangings open, grabbed her wand from the night table, and looked around.

Harry’s stag stood in the middle of the room, placidly gazing at her. Ginny raised her left hand and stared at the ring, then at the stag. She lowered her hand and the stag vanished.

Sarah and Christina were clinging to each other, terrified. “It’s okay,” Ginny said, although her voice was not completely steady. “It won’t come back.” She gave them a quick smile and jumped back into bed and closed the hangings. She sat there, staring at the ring on her trembling hand. The glow from the rubies had intensified, but as she watched, it dimmed.

Ginny pulled the covers up and lay awake for a long time, feeling awe and wonder, and a little bit of fright, but the last thought she had before falling asleep was that Harry’s Patronus was watching over her.


	31. Hermione Explains Everything

Ginny didn’t send Harry a note about the stag; she wanted to show him, and so she waited until Friday afternoon when they were back at the inn. But Harry didn’t give her a chance; he started pulling off her clothes as they climbed the stairs to the flat, and as soon as they were inside he picked her up in his arms and carried her to the bedroom. For the next hour, Ginny didn’t say much of anything except what concerned the activity at hand.

Afterwards they lay in bed on their backs with Harry’s arm under her head. “We’ll go into London tomorrow morning and meet Ron and Hermione,” he said. “Then we’ll all pop down to the Burrow for dinner, and you and your mum can start planning the wedding.” His other hand wandered, and Ginny purred.

“Mmm, Harry?” she said after a moment, holding his hand before it could drift too far south. “I want to show you something.”

“Blimey, I think I’ve seen just about everything there is to see.”

“No,” she giggled, “you haven’t seen this.” She sat up and raised her left hand with the rubies facing him. “Remember what I told you about your stag? Well, there’s a lot more.” She grinned at Harry’s knit brow as she flourished the ring dramatically and brought it to her mouth. The rubies touched her lips, and Harry bolted upright as first a cloud of silver mist and then his Patronus materialized at the foot of the bed.

“Merlin’s antlers! How the hell—” He stared open-mouthed at the stag and at Ginny, then grabbed his eyeglasses from his night stand and shoved them on his face. “It comes when you kiss the ring?” He took her hand, touched the glowing stones, and looked back at the stag.

Ginny dropped her hand and the Patronus vanished in a blink.

They were silent for a moment; Harry laughed nervously. “I guess it’s _our_ Patronus now. I wonder what happens if you summon yours.”

“Don’t know.”

She picked up her wand from the nightstand. _”Expecto Patronum!”_ she said, with the memory of what she and Harry had been doing to each other half an hour ago fixed in her mind. The mist swirled, and they could see the outline of her roan mare. But it slowly changed, and Ginny grabbed Harry’s arm as the shape of a silver-white doe took form. Finally, it stood where the stag had been, looking at them from limpid eyes.

Harry started to speak, but Ginny shushed him. “Wait,” she whispered. She kissed her ring, and the stag and the doe stood side by side, unmoving. When Ginny lowered her ring, they both vanished.

They stared in a longer silence. Harry turned his head to Ginny, and she saw a crazy grin on his face.

“First barn owls, now Patronuses,” he said. “You and I will populate the world with magical creatures.”

Ginny burst into laughter. Soon they were both howling and rolling on the bed. Harry ended on top, holding her arms down on the pillow. “I wouldn’t mind starting our own—”

“No!” Ginny shook her head and scowled. Harry rolled off and they lay side-by-side, not speaking. Finally they both turned to each other at the same instant. “I’m sorry,” they said in unison.

“I got carried away,” Harry said, and brushed his finger against her lips. “Ignore that last idiotic comment.”

Ginny snapped her teeth on his finger, biting rather hard, but let go and smiled. “I will, but I have to admit I like the idea as a future project.” She rolled on top of him. “It’ll be fun when we decide to do it, but I have a tryout with the Harpies in the spring, and then I have a wedding in the summer. I want to be able to fit into Quidditch robes and a killer wedding gown.”

“That’s fine with me.”

Harry’s hands picked up where they had left off before Ginny showed him her rubies, and they spent the rest of the evening creating more memories for summoning Patronuses.

At breakfast in the little kitchen the next morning, Harry told Ginny that he had decided to ask Stan to take over the inn after Christmas. “I’ll talk to Percy over the holiday and see if I can start the program. It’ll be a pain to Disapparate down there every day, but maybe I can stay with Ron and Hermione a few days during the week.”

“Why don’t you hook up to the Floo network?” Ginny buttered two pieces of toast and handed one to Harry.

“I was thinking about that, but I really don’t like the idea of hooking my home up, at least not until they find Turquoise Southeby.”

“So ask McGonagall to let you use one of the fireplaces at school. She owes you big time.”

“That’s an idea I hadn’t thought of. Yeah, I’ll talk to her next week.” He smiled. “Then I can keep sending you mash notes and sleep in my own bed every night.”

“Then yes, definitely do it.”

Harry pushed his plate away and leaned back. “How did I get so lucky to have you fall in love with me?”

“You’re a good kisser, especially when you’ve just had detention,” Ginny laughed.

Harry stood. “I’ll settle for that. Come here.” They gave each other a very long good morning kiss and went downstairs. Only a few customers were breakfasting in the dining room, and Harry asked Stan to join him at his table in back.

“I’ll watch the bar,” Ginny said to Stan. “I always wanted to see how much I could make in tips.”

Stan laughed. “Around ‘ere, not much. Wizards are a cheap lot.” He went with Harry and they sat. “So, what’s up? You’re going down to London this morning?”

Harry folded his hands on the table. “Yes, but there’s something I want to ask you. How would you like to take over running the inn after Christmas?”

Stan had a look of total surprise. “‘Ow would I do that?”

“I’m going to enroll in the Auror training program, the same one that Ron’s in. I can’t run the inn if I’m doing that. So someone has to take over. I’d like it to be you.”

“Merlin, ‘Arry. I guess so. Sure I would. But . . .”

“I’ll still live in the flat and eat here, but all the profits will be yours. The Ministry will pay me while I’m in the program, so I won’t need any gold.”

Stan blinked a few times. “Yeah. I’d like to do that.” He smiled broadly. Harry reached and took his hand and Stan pumped it. “‘Arry, do you mind if I go out for a few minutes?”

“And tell Harriet?” Harry grinned. “Go ahead. I’ll help Ginny out at the bar. We’ll split the tips.”

Stan shook Harry’s hand again and quickly left; Harry could see him running across the field towards the back entrance of The Three Broomsticks. He walked over to the bar and sat on a stool. Ginny was wiping down the counter and chatting with Sagittaria Slocum, the Auror on duty.

“What can I get you, my lad?” She leaned on the bar and batted her eyes. “We have a love potion special today, guaranteed to make redheads fall in love with you.”

“I already have the redhead I want,” Harry grinned, “but I’ll take a cuppa with two lumps.”

“I’ll get it,” Sagittaria said. “I don’t have anything else to do.” She went into the kitchen and Ginny resumed wiping the counter.

“What did Stan say?” she asked. “He ran out of here like he had Bowtruckles in his shorts.”

“He went to tell Harriet that he’ll be running the inn.”

Ginny smiled and put down the towel. “Harry, that’s brilliant. He’ll do really well.” She leaned forward and kissed him. “Thank you.”

Sagittaria brought Harry’s tea and set it on the bar. “I see you got into the love potion,” she grinned.

Ginny smiled sweetly. “He got into it a long time ago. Did you see my ring?”

While the Auror was admiring Ginny’s ring, Stan returned and came behind the bar. “No tips,” Ginny quipped, “but your bar is very clean.”

“‘Arry,” Stan said hesitantly, “what about the elves? Did you tell them?”

“I’ll do that tomorrow; I’ll be around all day in case there’s a problem, but I don’t think there will be. You’ve all been getting along pretty good, haven’t you?”

Stan shrugged. “As far as I can tell, but maybe they won’t like taking orders from me.”

“They’ll have to, and anyway I’ll still be here most of the time.”

For an instant, Harry felt the old pang of annoyance that he used to get whenever a problem about the inn arose. But this time it didn’t last, and it didn’t make him angry. If either of his house-elves really had an issue with Stan, he would somehow find a way to make everyone happy, even if it meant hiring more people or finding elves willing to work for pay. He patted the barkeep's arm, “Don’t worry, if it’s a problem, I’ll find some way to work it out.”

Harry and Ginny left the inn and Apparated into the back storeroom of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. They stopped in the shop to say hello to George and Lee, and went upstairs to Ron and Hermione’s flat.

“Good, you’re here early.” Ron waved two handfuls of parchments at Harry as they walked into the kitchen. “I nicked everything I could about the training program. We can go over it before lunch.”

“Stan’s going to take over the inn,” Ginny said before Harry could answer. “Isn’t that brilliant?”

“Harry, that’s wonderful.” Hermione kissed him and Ginny. “So you’ll start classes after Christmas?”

“If Percy will let me. I guess I’ll have lots of catching up to do.”

“No problem, mate.” Ron started spreading parchments on the kitchen table. “It’s all here, the whole bloody course, all the lesson plans, the test questions we had, field assignments, everything. Don’t tell Perce about it. If I put it all back on Monday he won’t notice a thing.”

“Brilliant, Ron,” Hermione said. “You’re training to be an Auror and you start off by stealing lesson plans from the Ministry.”

“I’m not stealing, I’m borrowing. Besides, they’ll be so glad to see Harry they wouldn’t notice if I Vanished all the desks. Well, Percy might. He wouldn’t have anything to shuffle his paperwork on.”

Harry leaned over the table and examined the parchments. “I know half of this stuff already. You did most of it last year when we were on the run, Hermione.” He grinned at her. “ _You_ should take the course.”

“Actually, Saliyah _has_ asked me to join the department. And I haven’t ruled it out,” she added, giving Ron a look.

Ginny and Harry looked at her in surprise. “You want to become an Auror?” Ginny said. “What about the whole Arithmancy thing?”

Hermione sat at the table and started drumming her fingers. “All those things that happened to you and Harry made me think a lot. The work at the Institute is fascinating, I really love it. But I’m not sure it will ever make a difference. It certainly wouldn’t have prevented Harry from being poisoned.”

“But I thought you were trying to find a way to detect Unforgivable Curses.”

Hermione sighed. “I was. I mean, I am. But do you know how many of them are used in a typical year? I don’t mean last year, when Riddle and people like Lestrange were using them left and right. Before that, say five years ago, as best as we can tell, there were maybe five or six a year in the whole country, and most of those were Imperios used by people trying to get someone to fall in love with them. Honestly.” She rolled her eyes.

“So now you want to become an Auror?” Harry asked.

“No. I want to help Kingsley fix things. I want to join the Magical Law Enforcement office.” She glanced at Ron, who now had a frown on his face. “Percy is more or less running it now, and he’s very efficient, but . . .”

“But he’s a prat sometimes,” Ron finished for her. “He’s really not very good at dealing with people. His heart’s in the right place, finally, but he’s like Pester in some ways. He rubs people the wrong way.”

There was silence. Hermione spoke after a few moments. “I know what you’re all thinking. You’re thinking, Hermione can also be a very annoying person _._ And maybe you’re right sometimes, Ronald,” she frowned at him, “but I didn’t say I want to run the Office, I only want to work there.”

“For now,” Ron muttered, and Hermione glared.

“He just doesn’t want to think he could end up working for me someday,” Hermione said to Ginny and Harry. She turned back to Ron. “I’ll never be Head Auror, so Harry or somebody will be your boss, not me.”

“What makes you think _I_ won’t be Head Auror?”

“Fine, Ron. You’ll be Head Auror, which means if I’m ever Head of the Office you’ll be working for me. But you can relax, I’ve never been known to run around emasculating wizards.”

Harry and Ginny grinned at each other, and after a minute Ron also relented with a smile. “Cross that bridge when we come to it, eh, mate?” he said to Harry. “But she’s right about being able to do some good there.” He leaned across the table and took Hermione’s hand. “If anyone can help Kingsley, it’s you.”

Hermione looked pleased and turned to Ginny and Harry. “So, what shall we do today? Ron and I want to do something special to celebrate your engagement.”

“Speaking of which.” Ginny held up her ring. “Watch this.” She summoned Harry’s Patronus, and when it appeared next to the stove Ron and Hermione were open-mouthed, just as Harry had been last night. “No incantation, no wand, just my ring. And that’s not all. My own Patronus has changed to a doe.”

“A silver doe?” Ron asked, turning a wide-eyed look at Harry. “Like . . .?”

Harry nodded. “Snape’s. And my guess is that my mum’s wasn’t a doe at first, either, but it became one when she and my dad got engaged. But isn’t that brilliant?” He squeezed Ginny’s hand.

Ron got up and brought a tin of biscuits to the table. “You know, I always wondered why yours was a horse, Ginny. Did you want one for Christmas?” He opened the tin and took out a large handful of oatmeal raisin biscuits and started eating. Hermione peered into the tin and moved it away from him.

“That’s exactly right,” Ginny said. “I wanted a pony when I was little. Did you want a dog?”

Ron nodded; his mouth was full and at first he couldn’t speak. “But what about the ring and the stag?” he finally managed to mumble. “What the hell is that?”

Ginny looked at Harry; they all looked at Hermione. She was staring at the almost-empty tin with her brow knit. Finally she spoke.

“If you think about it, there’s quite a bit of magic in Patronuses that we—or at least I—don’t know about. Dumbledore discovered how to use them to communicate. Snape used his to lead Harry to the sword of Gryffindor. They are extremely powerful, as Harry showed when his fought off all those dementors. So it shouldn’t be surprising that a Patronus can transfer some of its own magic into another magical object.” She reached over and took Ginny’s left hand and rubbed her thumb on the rubies. “We should go back to the jewelry store where you bought this and try to find out where the rubies came from.”

“It’s next to the small bookshop,” Harry said. “It’s called Weague and Tright.”

“Yes, I know it. I’ve been in it a couple of times. They have a very elegant and very expensive selection.”

“Well,” Harry mumbled, looking a little embarrassed, “I wanted to get something nice.”

“That you did, mate.” Ron reached all the way across the table and grabbed the remaining biscuits. “So do you want to take a look at this stuff?” He swept his hand over the parchments, now sprinkled with oatmeal crumbs.

Harry looked at Ginny. “Do you want to go to the jewelry store?”

Ginny shook her head. “No, love, you three do this. I think I’d like to go see George. I haven’t really talked to him in a while. It’s been half a year. When you’re done, come downstairs and we’ll go.” Harry put his hand on her shoulder as she went past him to the door.

Ginny found George waiting on a young witch who looked vaguely familiar. She was buying a colorful scarf, and nodded to Ginny on her way out after she paid. Ginny walked up to the counter as George was closing the cash box. “Who is she?” Ginny asked. “I know I’ve seen her before.”

“That’s Agatha Tright. Her parents own a jewelry shop down the block. She was in our—my year in Ravenclaw. Nice kid, kind of quiet. She’s interested in African magic. That was a Nigerian Headless Scarf she just bought.” He grinned. “We’re now stocking Headless Hats, Scarves, Helmets, Earmuffs, and Nose Plugs.”

“Headless Nose Plugs?”

“Right. See, you put them in your nose before you go swimming, then when you’re underwater you activate them by pinching your nose, and your head disappears. It’s guaranteed to freak out everyone else in the pool.”

“And drown them from fright.”

“Well, that could be an unfortunate side-effect.” He leaned back against a cabinet behind the counter. “So, what brings you downstairs? Is everything okay up there?”

Ginny smiled. “Harry is joining the Auror program. Don’t tell anyone, especially Percy. Harry doesn’t want the word to get out yet. Ron nicked copies of the course material from the Ministry, and Harry’s looking at them now.”

“Wow, that’s brilliant. I mean about Harry, not about Ron.” They both laughed. “I never really thought Harry would like running a business. He’s not patient enough, he needs immediate results. You know, _’Expelliarmus,’_ and then the war’s over,” George chuckled, but fell silent and stared at the counter top in front of Ginny.

Ginny leaned forward and held out her hand. “George, how are you?”

“Oh, fine.” He looked out the front window at the people walking in the street, and back at Ginny. “No, Gin.” He shook his head and took her hand. “Not fine. He’s always there. He never goes away.” He smiled wanly. “Come on.”

He led her past Lee who was standing at the far end of the counter, and into the storeroom in back. It was filled with opened and unopened cartons of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes products. George slumped into a chair and put his head in his hands. Ginny stood next to him with her hand on his shoulder. After several minutes George looked up at her; his face was streaked with tears.

“I don’t know what to do, Ginny. I want him to stay, and I want him to go away. But if he goes, I’m afraid I’ll go with him.”

Ginny felt tears filling her own eyes, and put her arms around him. George buried his face against her and began sobbing. Ginny stroked his hair and said nothing. Finally George sat back and wiped his face with his hands.

“Oh, Merlin,” he said in a husky voice, “we’re about to start selling Crying Cream. Lee must have smeared some on the doorknob this morning.” He tried to laugh, but it came out as a wheezing cough. Ginny pulled a chair over and sat in front of him.

She took his hand. “Do you and Lee talk about it?”

George shook his head. “No, not much. I guess we’re both hiding our heads in the sand. I see Angelina sometimes and we have a drink in the Leaky Cauldron. She talks and I listen. She’s doing better than I am. Maybe that’s why.”

“Maybe.”

“I should talk, I know. Actually, that’s all I ever do is talk. But not about him. When I start talking about him, I turn around because I think I heard him say something. But it’s myself I’m hearing. I make jokes and I act stupid because when I’m doing that, for an instant he’s here, he’s about to finish off the wisecrack. Then I wait for it, and there’s nothing, he never finishes the joke. It will never be finished.” He started to cry again.

Ginny knelt and put her head in his lap. George started stroking her hair; he wiped his nose on his sleeve and sighed. “I know I’m not the only one who feels like this. Mum tries to hide it, but I catch her staring at me, and I know why she’s doing it. Sometimes I actually think about becoming a shape-shifter so I can stop looking like him.” He bent his head over Ginny. “Are you all right, Gin?” She nodded without lifting her head. “I’m sorry you came all the way into town just to listen to me blubber.” He paused and gave a little laugh. “You know, I can’t remember a single time when he and I cried together like this. Sometimes one of us would get really steamed at the other and start screaming and crying, but then one of us would start laughing and then both of us would be laughing.” He chuckled, and Ginny looked up and smiled. She sat in her chair and brushed her hair back from her face.

“Why don’t you come home tonight?” she said. “We’ll all be there. Mum wants to start planning the wedding, but I’ll bet you twenty Galleons she already knows exactly how everything’s going to be.”

George smiled and stood. “Maybe. I was going to have dinner with Angelina, but I’ll see if she wants to do that instead. It would be nice to talk about a wedding instead of . . . you know.”

Ginny hugged him. “I think it’s also okay to talk about Fred,” she said as they held each other.

They heard footsteps coming down the stairs from the flat. George opened the door just as Harry, Ron, and Hermione were walking into the shop. “Oi!” he called, “can I interest anyone in some top secret documents from the Ministry of Magic? They’re right upstairs, and I can let you have them for really cheap. I’m very close to an insider who can put his very sticky fingers on anything, even Kingsley Shacklebolt’s laundry list.”

Ron waved his hand. “I didn’t know you were interested in Kingsley’s knickers, George.”

George grinned at Ginny and followed her into the shop to join the others. “Have a nice time, kids. Don’t stay out too late,” he told them. “You should come by more often,” he said to Ginny. “And bring your fiancé, I’ll take you both out to dinner.”

She gave him a hug.  “I will, I promise, and come tonight with Angelina. I haven’t seen her since my party.”

The four walked down Diagon Alley towards the jewelry store. Harry took Ginny’s hand. “How is George?” he asked.

Ginny let out a breath. “Hoo boy. We talked for fifteen minutes about Fred, and he never once said his name. He’s haunted, Harry. I get moments when I think about Fred and I feel overwhelmed, but George is always in one of those moments.” She put her arm through his and walked in silence.

They came to the jewelry store and admired the window display for a few minutes. There were rings, bracelets, brooches, necklaces, and tiaras, all sparkling with brilliant gems and stones. Several remarkable-looking sculptures were also displayed that contained settings of rubies, topazes, emeralds, and turquoises.

They went inside and a wizard dressed in very tasteful and expensive formal robes came through a curtain from a back room. He smiled when he saw Harry.

“Ah! Mr. Potter, it’s good to see you again. And this is the young lady?” He bowed to Ginny. “Miss Weasley, it is a pleasure to meet you. I am Abraham Tright. Mr. Potter never stopped talking about you when he was here. I didn’t think anyone could outshine the ring he bought, but I have to admit that I was wrong.”

Ginny blushed and held up her ring; the diamonds glittered and the rubies flashed. “Thank you. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever owned.”

A small frown crossed the jeweler’s face. “Pardon me, Miss Weasley, may I look at it? The rubies . . .” He took an eye loupe from his pocket and held Ginny’s hand to it. After a moment he put the loupe away and frowned again. “This is very strange,” he said to Harry. “There is an identical imperfection in each ruby, something I’ve never seen before. Mr. Potter, it appears that I’ve sold you a flawed ring. I—I don’t know how I could have missed it, but I will replace it, of course, without any cost to you. I’m terribly sorry, I—”

Harry held his hand up. “No, Mr. Tright, it’s okay. It’s not a flaw, it’s something else, and that’s why we came to see you.”

Puzzlement replaced Tright’s frown. “I don’t understand. Gems don’t acquire imperfections unless they’ve been mistreated, and I’m not implying at all that you or Miss Weasley—”

“No, no, it wasn’t anything like that. Something magical happened to it, Mr. Tright. We wanted to ask if . . . if . . .” He turned to Hermione. “What do we want to ask?”

“Where the rubies came from, and if there’s any reason to think that they were magical before you sold them to Harry,” Hermione said.

Tright looked at her. “Ah, Miss . . .?”

Hermione extended her hand. “Hermione Granger, and this is Ronald Weasley, my, uh . . . Ginny’s brother.”

The jeweler shook their hands. “Delighted to meet you. But,” he said to Hermione, “I am absolutely certain that these gems were not magical when I sold them to Mr. Potter. We take great pride and care in selling only the purest and most perfect gems. We’ve sold hundreds of rubies, and never had a complaint. If a customer comes in here looking for a magical gem, we send them down to Knockturn Alley, where they can buy any kind of rubbish they want.” He frowned at Harry. “What exactly happened?”

“My Patronus touched the ring,” said Harry, “and now . . .”

“Now, when I kiss the rubies, Harry’s Patronus appears,” Ginny finished.

Mr. Tright stared at her and at the ring; he looked befuddled. “How can that be? I’ve never even heard of such a thing. Why did it touch the ring?”

“I held my hand out to it, and it touched the ring with its nose. It’s a stag. Do you want me to show you?” She started to put the ring to her mouth, but Tright reached and pulled it away.

“Please, that won’t be necessary, not in here.” He glanced nervously at the glass display cases.

“Mr. Tright,” Harry said, “please don’t be upset. Ginny and I really don’t mind that she can summon my Patronus. We just wanted to make sure that there isn’t something else that we don’t know about. It’s a beautiful ring, and we’re very happy with it.”

“Well . . .” He looked at Ginny and she smiled. “Well, if you’re both happy . . .”

“We are,” said Harry, “but please don’t tell anyone about it. We don’t want to attract attention.”

“I won’t. I imagine you of all people would not want attention. Discretion is part of my business, Mr. Potter. No one outside this room will hear about your ring from me. So, Mr. Weasley.” He turned to Ron with a smile. “When will you be in the market for a token for your own young lady friend?”

Ron turned scarlet. “Oh, maybe soon, I don’t know. Kind of expensive, though,” he mumbled.

Hermione took his arm. “I don’t need anything expensive, sweetie. And Mr. Tright, do you know where the rubies came from?”

‘Burma. Most of our best gems come from Burma.”

As they were leaving, Ginny noticed a photograph on the wall near the door. “Is that your daughter?” she asked Mr. Tright, who was escorting them out. The photo showed the witch who Ginny had seen in the Wheezes; she was wearing a brilliantly colored African costume, and danced around inside the frame, whirling and leaping high into the air.

“Yes,” he beamed. “It’s my daughter Agatha. She’s very interested in African culture, and she’s also a very accomplished dancer, if I may say so. She dances with an ensemble that performs around the country.”

“I knew I had seen her before!” Ginny exclaimed. She turned to the others. “She was in the show we saw at the Ministry last summer.” They watched the photograph for a few minutes, then bid goodbye to Mr. Tright and left.

“Where does that leave us?” Ron asked. “We still don’t know what’s going on with the rubies.” They were passing Flourish and Blotts and Hermione stopped.

“Let’s duck in here, I think I know where to look. It’ll only take a minute.”

“They let you do research in here?” Harry asked.

“She buys so many books, they roll out the red carpet whenever she walks in,” Ron said. “Come on, you’ll see.”

They entered the bookstore and before they were five feet inside, three young witches were at Hermione’s elbow. “Miss Granger!” said the first, a tall, thin, black-haired witch. “What a pleasure! We haven’t seen you since yesterday. Are you looking for something special?”

“Actually, I just want to look something up in Roundstone’s _Magical Gems Of The World_. It’s right over there.” The instant she pointed to an aisle in back, in a section labeled Rare And Exceedingly Rare Books, the second attendant—tall, thin, and blonde—dashed off, and in less than a minute was back with a volume whose binding was made of hundreds of small, brightly colored gems. And when Hermione sat in a chair that the first witch Summoned for her, the third witch—tall, thin, with brown hair—pulled a long parchment from her robes and began writing on it.

Ron leaned towards Harry and Ginny. “‘Mione knows where every damn book in the store is,” he whispered, “so whenever she asks for something, one of these clerks writes down where she told them to get it from. They figure in another six months they’ll have the whole place catalogued.”

Hermione was flipping rapidly through pages; after a few seconds she stopped. “Here. I knew I had seen this before.” The others gathered around. “There’s a mine in the highlands of northern Burma that only the local wizards know about. Listen. ‘Over the centuries the Shingbwiyang mine has produced tens of thousands of many types of gems. Very rarely, and only from this mine, a gem will demonstrate a high potential for incorporating magical qualities. These rare specimens are not intrinsically magical; normally, magic cannot penetrate the rigid crystalline structures of such stones as emeralds, diamonds, and rubies. While not bearing magical qualities on their own, these unusual gems can absorb a powerfully directed spell and take on extraordinary qualities.’” She snapped the book closed and looked up at them.

When they were outside Harry gazed at Hermione in amazement. “I can’t believe you remembered where that book was.”

“Well, I saw it only about five years ago when I was here to buy my school books. I noticed the binding, so I picked it up and leafed through it.”

“So now we know what happened to the ring,” Ginny said as they walked back to the Wheezes. “It sounds like it could do more magic, if we knew how.”

“I wouldn’t try experimenting, Ginny,” Hermione said. “If someone as knowledgeable as Mr. Tright didn’t know about it, it must require quite powerful magic to make something happen.”

“Like the magic of a Patronus,” said Ginny, and Hermione nodded.

Back in the flat Hermione and Ron whispered together for a few minutes before announcing that, to celebrate the engagement, they would take Ginny and Harry to their favorite Muggle restaurant, and see if they could get tickets to a matinee performance at the Globe Theater. “They’re doing that play with the old witches,” Ron said. “We saw it when we were kids, do you remember, Ginny?”

“Yes, and Mum had to keep shushing me because I was cracking up so much. Those witches were so funny.”

The restaurant was a small Italian establishment near Piccadilly. Ron and Hermione were well known there, and they sat at a table next to a window and watched people on the street while they ate. Ron toasted Harry and Ginny with a glass of wine, and when their waiter saw it, he brought the rest of the serving staff and the manager over. There was another toast, and the manager kissed Ginny’s hand and made her blush. Ron whispered in his ear; the man nodded and Ron handed him some Muggle money. A half hour later he was back with four tickets to that afternoon’s performance at The Globe.

They took a taxi, and Harry and Ginny marveled at the beautiful reconstruction of the old theater. It was Harry’s first time ever at a play, and he kept turning to Ginny with a delighted look on his face. Hermione spoke all of the lines under her breath until Ron threatened her with a Silencio.

In the cab on the way back to Diagon Alley, Ginny mused about the play. “The witches weren’t funny this time, just strange. I suppose you have to consider that Shakespeare probably didn’t know any real ones. At least they got the clothes more or less right.”

“Yeah,” said Harry, who was sitting in the back seat between Ginny and Hermione, “but they had the potion completely wrong. Shouldn’t it have been dried dragon pancreas instead of newt’s eye?”

They talked about the witches’ brew until the cab stopped in front of The Leaky Cauldron, and they didn’t notice the strange look the driver gave them as he drove away. They stopped briefly at the flat before Disapparating to the Burrow.

Molly was delighted to see them. “And George will be here with Angelina,” she said as she let Harry go from his own personal hug. He retreated to the sitting room with the others and joined Mr. Weasley there.

“Harry,” Arthur greeted him, “I heard you’re enlisting in Percy’s Auror training program. That’s wonderful news. Kingsley is going to be very pleased when he hears about it.”

“He probably already knows,” Harry said, shooting an accusatory look at Ron. “I tried to keep it a secret but now your whole family seem to know.”

Ron patted his back. “Don’t worry, mate, we’re a very tight-lipped family. No one else knows yet.” Hermione suppressed a snort.

“Will you still live at the inn?” Arthur asked Harry.

“Yes, I want to stay near Ginny. And until they find out who did the Dark Marks and those other things, I don’t want to leave it alone at night, even with the Aurors on guard.”

“How will you commute? Do you have a connection to the Floo network? It’s a much easier way to travel than Apparating to the staff entrance.”

“No, I’m not connected. Ginny suggested I could use a fireplace at the school.”

“Well, I think I can help you. Do you remember a few years ago when we came to your aunt’s place and brought you here? I had a friend on the Floo Regulation Panel who arranged that, and the chap is now in charge of the whole Network. Why don’t you let me put in a word with him? I think you have a pretty good case for getting a high-security connection. You wouldn’t have to worry about anyone slipping in who wasn’t supposed to.”

“That would be awesome, Mr. Weasley. How does that security work? Would someone from, say, Hogwarts be able to use it if I wanted them to?”

Arthur grinned. “You mean if you wanted _her_ to. Yes, you can set it up however you want. It‘s all controlled by the Floo Regulation Panel, which was one of the few offices that the Death Eaters didn’t bollix up. They didn’t put any of their incompetent toadies on it, it was too important. As long as the technicians did what they were told, they were left alone.”

At that moment they heard Apparition noises outside, followed by cries of welcome from the kitchen, and George and Angelina Johnson walked into the parlor. They all greeted each other, Angelina admired Ginny’s ring, and soon Molly announced dinner.

Ginny sat on Harry’s right and kept her left hand under the table. Soon Harry felt her ring rubbing against his leg, then her hand rested on it. He looked at her; she gave him a radiant smile and squeezed his leg. Harry felt the happiness that was engulfing her; she was with her family, her beloved was at her side, and soon she would be sitting with her mum, planning her wedding. Harry was the only one to notice the single tear in the corner of her eye; he reached over and wiped it away with his finger.

When they finished eating, Ron and Harry cleaned up while everyone else went into the parlor. When they came in after the dishes were put away, George and Arthur were sitting near the fireplace, and the women were sitting together around a small table. Hermione was writing with quill and parchment while all four of them chattered about dress fabrics and colors, floral arrangements, seating arrangements, which distant relatives to invite, how to keep Aunt Muriel out of the punch, who should conduct the ceremony (Ginny insisted on Kingsley), and which band to hire (Ginny insisted on the Huffle Badgers).

Ron joined his father and brother, but Harry hung around the little table for a few minutes, listening to the women. During a particularly animated moment when Molly and Ginny were arguing about the flower girls—Molly wanted the Prewett cousins, while Ginny wanted the Athair twins—Harry slipped out of the room and walked outside. It was dark, and he stood by the garden fence looking across the lawn to the peach tree standing in shadow. In less than a minute Ginny was there.

“What’s wrong, love?” she asked, looking at him with concern. “Is it something about the wedding?”

Harry hesitated. The evening was chilly and a damp breeze ruffled their hair; he shivered, and Ginny put her arm around him. He shook his head and looked down.

“I don’t want anything to ruin it for you. Let’s take a walk, like we used to do last summer.”

He put his arm around her and they walked across the yard to the back gate. As they entered the woods Harry lit his wand and they strolled down the path to the river. Soon they were standing on the bank listening to the bare branches overhead moving in the breeze. Harry’s wandlight reflected off small ripples on the water, and across the river they could see lights from the village. After a few minutes Ginny turned him to face her. “Please tell me,” she murmured.

Harry kissed her brow, then walked a few feet away and stared over the river. “You were talking about who was going to sit where.”

Ginny came next to him and took his arm in hers. “That’s right. The bride’s family sits on one side and the groom’s—” She stopped. “Harry, we’ll have everyone sit wherever they want. No one cares.”

Harry nodded. “That’ll be fine. But . . .” His voice broke and he bowed his head. “It just reminded me that my parents won’t be there, and Sirius won’t be there. No one will be there.”

“I’ll be there.”

Harry let out his breath with a moan and swept her into his arms. “Ginny, never leave me, never.”

“I won’t, love. I can’t.”

She kissed his face, and they walked back to the Burrow. Warm lights and laughter came from the lopsided house. Everyone called to them as they entered the sitting room and sat on the hearth, warming themselves in front of the fire. Molly brought them mugs of hot chocolate topped with mounds of whipped cream.

Ginny looked at Harry and when he smiled back the room seemed to waver around her; for a moment she could feel Harry’s ache for her, his desire for her, and she could see her own blazing look through his eyes. She closed her eyes and was back inside herself, savoring the heat of the fire, the smell of chocolate, the cheer of her family, and the touch of Harry’s hand on hers.


	32. A Grand Holiday

Ron wandered back into the kitchen for a late snack, but Molly came in and took over, turning it into a late-night supper. She made up trays of small sandwiches, while Ginny, who had joined her, brewed a pot of tea. She told her mother about the pain that the wedding was causing Harry; Molly was chagrined.

“Oh, the poor boy. Why didn’t we think of that before we started talking, and right in front of him too. We’ll make no seating arrangements at all, just like you told him.” She looked sadly at Ginny and her eyes filled with tears. “We have to keep him from being reminded of all those bad things. Weddings can be hard if someone you love can’t be there.”

Ginny came and hugged her, “Oh, Mum, don’t worry, I’ll take care of him.”

“You do, darling. You take care of each other. It’s a joy to watch the two of you together.”

Ginny smiled and took the tea service into the parlor. Molly brought in the sandwiches and they supped by the comfortable lights of the fire and dozens of candles.  When Ginny sat next to Harry, he touched her face and she leaned her head on his shoulder. “Let’s leave soon,” she whispered.

George and Angelina decided to stay overnight, and Ginny told Angelina to take her room. Harry invited Ron and Hermione to come up to the inn tomorrow afternoon and stay for dinner, so the social calendar was set and Molly was happy to have one of her children stay overnight.

It was after midnight when Harry and Ginny walked into the inn. The dining room was closed and the elves asleep in their cupboards. They didn’t see the Auror on duty, but they knew there were ways to stay hidden and warm, and still be on watch. The night had suddenly turned quite cold, and Harry got out extra comforters. They didn’t light the candles, but snuggled under the layers of blankets. It was a sweet night and a comfort to them both.

The next morning Ginny went to the library and Harry faced the task of telling Kreacher and Winky that they would be working for Stan in a few weeks. He found them both in the kitchen; Kreacher looked up at him with his big, bat-like ears flapping, muttered, “Good morning, Harry Potter,” and started to shuffle into the dining room with a tray of breakfast rolls on his shoulder.

“Kreacher,” said Harry, “I need to talk to you and Winky. Can you come back when you have a moment?”

The house-elf nodded and closed the dining room door behind him. Winky, meanwhile, had turned on her stool in front of the stove. “Does this has to do with Ginny Pott— Ginny Weasley?” she asked.

“No.” Harry couldn’t help but smile at her slip, which he had long ago decided was deliberate. “And by the way, we’re getting married next summer at the Burrow, and it would really be great if you could make the wedding cake.”

She jumped up and stood on the stool, a huge smile on her face. “Winky would be honored! Winky will be Harry and Ginny Potter’s house-elf! Winky has noticed Ginny’s ring and the magical rubies.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up. “How did you know the rubies were magical? No one else did.”

At that moment Kreacher returned. Winky chose not to answer Harry’s question, so after a few seconds, Harry cleared his throat.

“I’ve decided to enroll in an Auror training program at the Ministry of Magic. I’ll be starting, I hope, after Christmas, and I won’t be able to run the inn. So . . .” he took a breath, noting Kreacher’s blank look and Winky’s scowl. “So I asked Stan to do it, and he said yes.”

Kreacher bowed. “That is a wise decision, Harry Potter.” He looked up at Harry and came the closest to a smile Harry had seen since he gave him Regulus Black’s locket. “Kreacher enjoys working with Stanley Shunpike; he does not say bad things about house-elves and he treats them kindly.” He turned his head to Winky with an accusatory look.

Harry’s eyes also shifted to Winky. She was glaring at him and brandishing a ladle that she had taken from a large cooking pot bubbling on the stove. “Winky must work for Stan Stunpike because Harry Potter says so,” she growled, “but Harry Potter must tell that one to stay out of Winky’s kitchen.”

Harry held up a conciliatory hand. “Stan Shunpike has to come in here sometimes, but it is your kitchen, Winky. He knows that.”

Winky slapped the ladle against her palm twice, slowly; with another glare, she turned back to the stove. Harry looked at Kreacher who was gazing up at him; the elf gave a tiny shrug and went back into the dining room. Harry sighed and followed; he had done the best he could, and at least he knew that Winky would not stage an outright rebellion. Stan could cope, Harry was certain, and Winky would do her duty.

The dining room was filling up, and Harry stopped at the bar to tell Stan that he had talked to the elves. “Kreacher’s fine, but Winky was a little testy.”

Stan laughed. “I ‘ope that’s the worst of it. Don’t worry, ‘Arry, she blows a lot of smoke, but it’s mostly for show. She just wants to run ‘er kitchen the way she wants, and that’s fine with me.”

Harry walked around the room, greeting customers and stopping to chat with Tony. None of the Aurors was inside, and he went out to find Sagittaria. She was sitting in a chair next to the back door.

“Hey, Harry,” she smiled, “how was London? Did you do anything?”

He conjured a chair and sat next to her. “We had lunch and saw a play. I was never at the theater before. We had a good time.”

“Anything on tap for today?”

“Ron and Hermione will be here. That’s all.”

“I understand you’re signing up for the training program. Harry, that’s brilliant. A lot of people were hoping you’d do that.”

Harry groaned. “It was supposed to be a secret. Who told you?”

She laughed. “The first lesson you’ll learn is never to reveal your undercover sources.”

“Okay,” he grinned. “I have an idea who it was, but I won’t try to blow his cover.”

“Actually, Ron didn’t say anything. He took copies of lesson plans home with him on Friday, and it wasn’t hard to figure out why. But the news about you is all over the office, I’m afraid.”

Harry gave a rueful shrug. “Well, I’d like to start after Christmas, but I wanted to talk to you before I made the decision official, which it now seems to be.”

“Sure, Harry. What did you want to ask?”

“Who do you think did all those things to the inn?”

The Auror frowned. “Well, we know it was vagrants who tossed the weasel through the window, and we have partial descriptions of the ones who knocked over the chimney and broke all the windows.”

“That’s not what I mean. Do you really think those vagrants, if that’s what they were, could have planned all that? And what about Turquoise Southeby and the Slytherins who attacked the kids? I just think there’s a connection.”

“There’s no evidence for that, Harry. There’s not even any evidence to tie Turquoise to anything. I admit she looks suspicious, very suspicious if you consider that she’s disappeared. Look,” she spoke before Harry could voice his obvious skepticism, “I understand your frustration. I’m frustrated too, and so are Saliyah and Kingsley. There is one thing that no one knows how to crack, and that’s probably the key to this whole thing, the Fidelius you discovered. I guarantee you we’ll solve this when we break that.”

“But what about all those Death Eaters who escaped from Azkaban? What about Dolores Umbridge?”

Harry was becoming irritated. It didn’t seem that anyone was seeing the whole picture, namely that he, Harry Potter, had been the one to destroy the Death Eater regime, and he was the one they were after, for revenge if nothing else.

Sagittaria nodded. “They might be involved. I don’t see what Umbridge could have to do with this, though. She’s still in France as far as we know.”

“What do you mean, as far as you know?” Harry said sharply. “Is she there or isn’t she?”

Sagittaria looked uncomfortable. “Well, I’m not assigned to that case, so I don’t really know much.”

“So they’ve lost track of her.”

“I don’t think so, but—”

“If there’s one person out there who has a personal grudge against me, it’s her. Damn.” Harry looked away and back at the inn. He knew he would be leaving this place after Ginny finished her school year, but he didn’t want to be driven from it; he didn’t want to run from his problems, especially from one as hateful as Dolores Umbridge.

He stood. “Well, I appreciate everything the Ministry is doing for me. I just wonder if it’s enough.”

The Auror stayed seated and looked up at him. “Maybe not, but we’re up against one of the strongest spells known to exist. If you have an answer, then please tell us.”

Harry went back into the kitchen, dissatisfied with his talk with the Auror, but right now he couldn’t think of a response to her last statement. Winky was still at the stove and didn’t look at him. Harry went into the dining room, and grinned when he saw Ron at the bar and Hermione sitting at a table in front of him.

“Just the genius I was hoping to see,” he said to her. “Let’s go upstairs, I have some questions for you.”

“Can it wait? We just got here, and I thought we could go meet Ginny for lunch. I haven’t been in the Hogwarts library for a while and there are some books I want to look up in the restricted section.”

“She’ll be pretty busy. Anyway, I was just talking to Sagittaria Slocum, and she said some things I didn’t like. Come on, we can go to the castle after lunch. I’ll have Winky serve it upstairs.”

Hermione didn’t look happy, but Harry pulled Ron from his conversation with Stan and they all went up to the flat. Harry moved a chair in front of the fireplace, and Hermione and Ron sat in the love seat. He told them what the Auror had said about the Fidelius, the Death Eaters, Turquoise, and Umbridge.

“She’s right,” Hermione said when he had finished. “Unless the Secret-Keeper turns up and tells us where the house is, we’ll never find it.”

“Okay,” Harry said, “then let’s forget about the house. What do you know about the Death Eaters and about Umbridge?” He looked at Ron.

“Not much more than I did a month ago.”

Harry thought for a moment. “What about Pansy Parkinson. Did you ever find out anything about her?”

“Well, no. I didn’t really try. It did seem kind of far-fetched to tie her in to all this.”

“You’re probably right. So . . . they haven’t caught any of the Death Eaters who escaped, they’ve lost track of Umbridge, and Turquoise Southeby has vanished. Why am I sensing that the Office of Magical Law Enforcement are a bunch of incompetents?”

“Harry, that’s not fair,” Hermione said. “There are other things happening besides your inn, which, you may have noticed, is being protected by three Aurors who do nothing but guard it. If they weren’t doing that, maybe they would be trying to solve crimes instead of preventing them. The Office is also working on the Turntongue case, and there’s probably other things going on that we don’t know about. On top of that, Kingsley is still Acting Head of the Office, and he’s swamped. Maybe Percy is running it day to day, but he has no formal training. He’s just a bureaucrat. No offense,” she said to Ron.

“Absolutely none taken,” he answered. “She’s right, mate. Percy is good at what he does, which is manage other quill-pushers. He’s doing a good job with the training program, but he doesn’t teach anything himself.”

“There’s something else,” Hermione said. “Don’t underestimate what it’s going to mean to the Ministry of Magic when _you_ start working there, Harry. You’re not nobody. It won’t be like Seamus or Susan or—”

“Or me,” Ron interrupted.

“Whoever,” Hermione said. “You’re going to make a difference, and from what I’ve seen of your magic lately, I think the Ministry is going to be very pleased with what they get.”

 Harry did not want the conversation to center on him. “Well, fine, but I don’t see how that helps us right now. I don’t want this thing hanging over my wedding. I’m not going to let it affect that. If the Ministry can’t do anything, then it’s up to us.”

They were all silent. After a moment Hermione sighed. “It all comes back to that Fidelius charm.”

“Could there be anything in the restricted section that might help?”

Hermione brightened. “Give us lunch and then I’ll go look. And we can surprise Ginny.”

An hour later they were in the library, and Harry startled Ginny with a kiss on top of her head while she was buried in a Charms textbook and about to write on a parchment.

“You are extremely lucky I did not have my wand in my hand,” she said after cleaning up the ink that had spilled all over the table, a result of jumping six inches out of her chair. “You would now be on your way to the hospital wing to have your bat bogeys removed.”

“It would have been worth it,” Harry grinned. “You’re very sexy when you jump like that.” She scowled at him ferociously and picked up her wand, but Harry pushed it aside and gave her a proper kiss.

“That’s better,” she said, “and less dangerous.”

Madam Pince appeared at the end of the aisle and glared them all into seats. “What brings you here?” Ginny whispered.

“I wanted to look up some things in the restricted section,” Hermione whispered back. “We were talking about the Fidelius charm, and we thought maybe there would be something in here that we could use to break it.”

“Good luck. I thought it was impossible to break.” Ginny looked around, and when she didn’t see Madam Pince, she raised her voice. “We already talked, remember?”

“I had a talk with Sagittaria Slocum about the inn today,” Harry said before Hermione could start. “Basically, they’re sitting on their bums waiting for a solution to fall from the sky. I want to resolve this, Ginny, I don’t want it hanging around until next summer.”

Ginny smiled and put her hand on his. “Neither do I, but . . .” She got a thoughtful look. “Harry, I just had an idea. You may not like it, but maybe it’s the only thing we can do.”

Harry put his other hand on top of hers. “What is it?”

“We can’t find Turquoise, and no one’s going to attack the inn as long as the Aurors are there. What if the Aurors went away? Maybe someone would attack the inn again.”

“And we would be waiting for them!” Hermione exclaimed loudly, then clapped her hand over her mouth and looked around in alarm.

Ginny got a sly look on her face. “Or our Patronuses would be waiting for them.”

They all looked at each other for a moment. Harry broke into a broad grin. “Ginny, you are brilliant. Will you marry me?”

“Only if you give me a ruby ring.”

Ron had a puzzled look. “Wait a minute, these are Patronuses we’re talking about, not watch dogs. How do you get a Patronus to stand guard, _and_ be invisible?”

“I don’t know,” Ginny answered. “Hermione, how do you get a Patronus to stand guard invisibly, and then deliver a message when Death Eaters show up?”

Harry sagged a bit. “You don’t know? You sounded so sure, I thought you knew.”

“Sorry, love, but my inspiration only goes so far.”

“That’s okay,” Harry smiled. “It’s a brilliant idea, all we have to do is figure out how to make it happen.” He looked at Hermione with his eyebrows raised, but she was lost in thought and didn’t notice him. Harry nudged Ginny. “She’s cooking.”

Ginny gave Harry a fond look. “You’re in a good mood. Yes, I will marry you.”

“Good. Let’s go up to the Headmistress’s office. I understand she’s like the captain of a ship; she can marry people.”

“Hmm,” Ginny frowned, “then we have a problem. I need to write a parchment for her class. I’m afraid marriage is out.”

Harry snapped his fingers. “Oh, drat, and I was so looking forward to it.”

Ron slapped his hand on the table. “Will you two shut up? Do you have any idea how annoying you are?”

Harry and Ginny stared at him. “Who is this bloke, Harry?” Ginny said. “Do you know him?”

A shadow fell across the table and the hawk-like visage and pinched mouth of Madam Pince stared down at them. “Mr. Potter,” she said sternly, “this is a library, not a common room. Please take your conversation out of here.”

“Nice going, mate,” Ron grumbled as they headed back to Hogsmeade, “you got us kicked out of the Hogwarts library. In my six years of skiving and slacking off I never once got tossed from the library.”

“Well, at least the old bag let Hermione stay,” Ginny said cheerfully. “We’ll have our answer to the Patronus puzzle before dinner.”

But Hermione returned empty-handed; she had not been able to find anything about Patronuses guarding anything. She joined them in the dining room, and they chatted until Kreacher, serving dinner to the customers, brought theirs. After they ate, Ron and Hermione departed. Back up in the flat. Harry lit a fire that filled the room with warmth and a low, flickering, romantic glow; he sat next to Ginny in the love seat.

“I will miss you rather a lot until Wednesday,” he said between snogs. “Can I persuade you to spend the last two hours of the weekend in the bedroom?”

“That sounds like a wonderful way to pass the time.” Ginny closed her eyes and smiled. “Carry me in?”

#   #   #   #

The weeks before Christmas passed quickly. Ginny held a final Quidditch practice on a frigid Thursday afternoon a week before the holiday, and the whole team were in high spirits; even Dennis played passably well and made two saves in a row for the first time ever. Ginny had asked Harry to come and watch, and he sat in the announcer's box doing an impression of Luna announcing a match; it caused several near collisions when flyers couldn’t control their laughter.

Afterwards, Ginny and Harry walked back to the castle together; the Quidditch practice had gone extremely well, and she felt as if she was in the stratosphere. On the way up to the castle she put her arm through Harry’s and chattered happily.

“Did you feel anything when I was up there? Just before Dennis made that second save, all of a sudden you were with me. It felt really good.”

They had both become accustomed to these moments when they seemed to be sharing each other’s awareness. Harry nodded. “I wonder if it’ll happen during a match.”

“It could be a distraction, but this time it seemed like we were flying around the sky together. What was it like for you?”

“It was like wind blowing through my hair and my fingers freezing," he laughed. “Weren’t you wearing your gauntlets?”

“I dropped them. Didn’t you see? I took them off to clap when Dennis made his first save, and I wasn’t paying attention. They almost hit Jimmy on the way down.” They both laughed.

They went up to the common room so Ginny could change, then down to the Great Hall, where Harry was going to leave her off for dinner, not wanting to miss a meal at the inn while he was working with Stan and the elves to make sure things would go smoothly when Stan took over.

As they entered the Hall, Ginny brought them up short. “Merlin, will you look at that.” She pointed to the Slytherin table. Sitting in the two end seats nearest the staff table were Emma and Claire; Sean was sitting next to Emma and Zoroaster next to Claire. They were eating and talking with the other young Slytherins who usually sat at that end of the table. The older students at the other end were ignoring them.

“It’s a revolution,” Harry said. “I never saw anyone do that except right after the battle.” As they walked to the Gryffindor table Emma saw them and waved; Claire turned and she, Sean, and Zoroaster also waved. Harry put his hand on Ginny’s shoulder as she sat; he leaned down and kissed her goodbye. “Let me know what you find out about that.” He indicated the twins. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He walked out with an eye on the Slytherin table. Just before he turned towards the doors, he glanced at the staff table and saw Professor McGonagall peering at the twins over her spectacles, a tiny smile on her face.

That evening during their nightly exchange of owls, Ginny reported that Emma and Claire had decided on the spur of the moment to eat dinner at the Slytherin table. “It took two Muggle-born children with absolutely no prejudices,” she wrote. “No one who grew up in the magical world would ever think of doing it. They told me that Sean and Zoro would eat dinner at the Gryffindor table tomorrow. You are right, it is a revolution.”

On Friday, a week before Christmas day, Harry met Ginny in the entrance hall and they returned to the flat through lightly falling snow. It was a still, chilly night and they used the opportunity to throw lots of covers on the bed and find ways to keep each other warm underneath.

Saturday night was The Hog’s Head Christmas party, since the inn would be closed for three weeks. Harry and his house-elves would be at the Burrow, and Stan would be with Harriet and her family. While the inn was closed, the Ministry decided to replace the Aurors with Caterwauling charms and other special wards and warning spells; a single Auror would stay at The Three Broomsticks, where he could instantly Apparate the few yards to the Hog’s Head if anything should happen.

Harry and Ginny spent all day Saturday decorating the dining room with wreaths, holly, mistletoe—they caught each other under it as often as possible—a beautiful tree that Tony and Carlos brought in, and dozens of Ginny’s favorite paper cutouts. Harry bought several dozen boxes of enchanted candles at Dervish and Banges that burned red, green, and other colors in the chandeliers and sconces. The mirror behind the bar was festooned with silver, green, and red streamers; each window was decorated with a candle and wreath; and Harriet Smythe added a festive Christmas hat to the smiling pig on the sign over the front door.

Stan dressed up as Father Christmas; Kreacher made the first and last joke in his life by telling everyone he was dressed up as an elf; and Ginny wore her sexy party dress, her veela necklace, and a red Christmas cap trimmed in white fur with a tiny golden bell on top. A large bowl of delicious punch—with a few cups of rum added—sat on a table in the middle of the room. A small bandstand was set up at the far end, and Keesha and two other members of the Huffle Badgers—one of the guitarists and the keyboard—were there to play wizard and Muggle carols.

The party began in the early evening and lasted until well after midnight. Everyone from the village showed up at one time or another, including Rosmerta and her whole staff from The Three Broomsticks; their own Christmas party would be next weekend. Most of the Hogwarts staff were there. Harry had asked Hagrid to bring Grawp and the giant sat in the field next to the front door, observing the festivities through the windows. At one point, Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione went out carrying a tub of punch and a dozen mincemeat pies for him. He was always glad to see the friends he had made three years ago, and when Harry introduced Ginny, he gently picked her up and she showed him her ring and her necklace. Grawp was mesmerized by the necklace, and Ginny took his finger, as large as herself, and let him touch the solitaire diamond. Hagrid stood in the doorway and beamed as tears rolled down his face.

Several seventh-year students from school were there. And, to Harry’s delight, many members of Dumbledore’s Army came. Cho Chang, wearing a slinky red silk Chinese dress, and Michael Corner arrived together; when Harry saw the ring on Cho’s finger, he pointed it out to Ginny.

“Should we say something to them?” Harry asked; they were standing near the bandstand, watching as Michael and Cho were surrounded by other members of the DA, offering congratulations.

“I guess so, but it feels a little weird. I was dating him and you were dating her.”

They went over to the crowd at the bar and stood on the edges. Finally Cho glanced up and saw Harry; she smiled and nudged Michael. Harry and Ginny walked over.

“Hi, Cho, Michael,” Harry said. “It looks like congratulations are in order.”

“And for you too,” Michael replied. They all stood awkwardly for a moment.

“Ginny, that’s a beautiful ring,” Cho finally said. “When did Harry give it to you?”

“November fourteenth at eight thirty-five in the evening.”

Harry looked at her in astonishment. “You know the exact time?”

“Of course,” Ginny smiled. “I’ll bet Cho does too.”

“I don’t have to remember that far back. It was just last night.” She looked fondly at Michael and he put his arm around her. “We . . . we’ll be leaving the country,” Cho said, and glanced at Harry.

“Oh? Where? For a holiday?”

“No, my uncle in Hong Kong offered us jobs in his business. We’ll get married there.”

“Oh,” Harry nodded. “That’s nice. So you’ll be actually moving there?”

“Right,” said Michael. “I always wanted to travel, see things. We’ll take Muggle boats and trains, do a little sight-seeing along the way.”

“You two will be the first of the DA to leave us,” Harry said. “We’ll have a special toast for you. How late are you staying?”

“Not late,” Cho said. “We have a lot of packing to do.”

“Catch me before you go. I’ll make sure Keesha gets everyone’s attention and we’ll give you a proper send-off.”

Michael and Cho wandered into the crowd, and Harry and Ginny watched them. “She seemed a little wistful,” Ginny observed.

Harry put his arm around her. “I always thought Cho was a little mixed up. I wonder what would have happened if Cedric had lived.”

Ginny grinned. “You still would have got detention for cursing Malfoy, and you still would have kissed me after the Ravenclaw match.”

“You’re right.” He grabbed her shoulders and kissed her, then held her at arms length. “Some things were destined, no matter what.”

“Do you think it was destiny?” Ginny put her hands on his chest.

“Yep. Come on, let’s go have a good time.”

They joined the DA table until Cho and Michael announced they were leaving, and Harry asked the band to play a flourish. He grabbed Cho and Michael, and everyone toasted their happiness. Ron, not to be outdone, toasted Harry and Ginny. George got the band to play a wedding march, and finally Cho and Michael left. At the door, just as she was leaving, Cho turned and gave a small wave to Harry. He waved back and she was gone.

The crowd started to thin around one o’clock in the morning; Harry and Ginny stood by the door wishing everyone a happy Christmas. Hagrid crushed Harry with a huge hug. “Grawpie’s really glad yeh invited him, Harry, an’ so am I. It’s nice to be with family at Christmas.” He started bawling, and when he walked out, Grawp gave him a pat on his back that flung him up the lane and across the High Street. He came up against the front door of Scrivenshaft’s, picked himself up, and beckoned to Grawp who was now also crying like a baby. They walked down the High Street back to Hogwarts, Grawp’s crashing footsteps rattling windows and causing everyone on the street to scamper out of the way.

Finally everyone was gone and Harry collapsed in a chair next to the bar. “Let’s leave it for tomorrow,” he said, waving Kreacher away; the elf was about to start clearing tables. “It’ll still be here.” Kreacher bowed, looking grateful, and went back into the kitchen. “Go home, Stan,” Harry told his barkeep, who was behind the bar with Harriet, still in his Father Christmas costume. “Don’t worry about anything, and don’t come in until dinner time tomorrow. If anyone shows up, I’ll tell them we’re only serving bread and water.”

They left, and Harry looked around the littered room. The chandeliers still glowed with Christmas colors; a cheerful spirit seemed to infuse the whole inn. Ginny was sitting at a nearby table.

“This was a wonderful party,” she said, getting up and walking over to him; she took his hands. “I’ve been looking at your green eyes all evening. They do things to me, you know.”

Harry blinked. “And that dress and that necklace do things to me, big things.” He put his hands on her hips. “You are the most lovely creature in the world.”

He led Ginny through the kitchen; the elves were asleep, but Winky had already cleaned and straightened up. In the flat, Harry went to let McPherson out, and Ginny looked out the picture window.

“Harry, come here!” she said suddenly. He came and saw a figure standing motionless in the middle of the field a few yards behind the elm tree, clearly visible under the nearly full moon. The person appeared to be gazing at the inn, but was cloaked and hooded so they could not see the face.

“Come on!” Harry dashed out the door with Ginny right behind him. They clattered down the stairs, and as he opened the back door the figure backed away, then turned and ran.

“Wait!” Harry shouted, and he and Ginny followed. The figure was almost at the fence beyond the field when the hood slipped off and tresses of long blond hair streamed out behind.

“Turquoise, wait!” Harry shouted, and drew his wand. As she scrambled over the fence, Harry shot a Body-binding spell that went high. The spell illuminated the lane, almost like daylight, and they saw another hooded figure standing there. This one raised its wand, and Harry started to cast a Shield Charm, expecting a spell to come his way, but the new one pointed its wand at Turquoise, who stopped dead in her tracks, then walked slowly forward. When she was within an arm’s length, the second figure grabbed her hand, there was a loud crack, and they were gone.

“Did you see who the second one was?” Ginny asked.

“No, but I thought they said something when they pointed their wand.”

They stood silently for a few minutes, peering into the darkness and listening, but in the cold night they heard nothing except the distant hoot of an owl.

“So where in hell was the Auror?” Harry said.

“Hurt, maybe?” Ginny answered, a little anxiously. They hurried back to the inn and almost collided with Sagittaria Slocum coming around the side with her wand out.

“Are you two okay? Did you see someone?” She looked around the field. “We detected two spells, one of them an Imperio.”

“An Imperio?” Harry stared at her. “Hermione didn’t tell us you could do that yet.”

“Hermione Granger? She’s not working on that anymore. She asked to be taken off, as far as I know.” She stepped away from them, lit her wand, and scanned the field again. “Did you see anyone?” she repeated, a little impatiently.

“Turquoise Southeby and someone else. They were both wearing hoods, but Southeby’s fell off and I saw her hair. I tried to Bind her but I missed. Then the second one came down the lane and took her hand and they Disapparated.”

Sagittaria walked out into the field and Harry and Ginny followed. “She was standing right there, looking at the inn.” Harry pointed to a spot near the elm tree. “How did she get so close without setting off some kind of alarm?”

The Auror turned to him. “Harry, we don’t have an alarm that goes off whenever someone comes near the inn. If we did that, every person who walked across this field would set it off. We can tell when someone’s up to no good, and apparently she was not.”

Harry grunted. “So if we didn’t happen to be looking out the window she could still be standing here.”

“There’s no way for us to tell she’s there if she does nothing.”

Harry gave her a disgruntled look. “So there’s nothing else to do out here, I suppose.”

“I’ll tell Sam to come over,” she said, referring to one of the other Aurors. “We’ll both stand the watch for a while.”

Harry and Ginny went back inside and Harry put an Opaque charm on the picture window. He sat on his side of the bed and took off his shoes, tossed them into the closet, and sighed. “I guess we have to trust them, but it sure would be—”

He stopped when he felt Ginny’s kiss on the back of his neck. He turned; she was on her hands and knees on the bed, wearing nothing. Her necklace and her breasts swayed in front of his eyes as she rocked slowly.

Her voice was throaty. “You’re supposed to be doing things to me.”

Harry fell back on the bed and pulled Ginny’s head down, kissing her upside down as his hands reached up and stroked and pinched danglers. He inched across the bed on his back while she moved in the opposite direction. In a moment they both found what they were looking for and did things to each other.

The next morning Harry sent an owl to Ron and Hermione, telling them about the strange incident of last night. Hermione answered, suggesting they wait until they were all at the Burrow, and could hash it out together. Ginny didn’t have any homework or projects she needed to work on, so she helped Harry clean up the dining room and serve the few customers who came in for lunch. In the evening they stayed in the flat doing this and that. Harry walked Ginny to the castle shortly before nine o’clock and went back home.

On Wednesday morning Sagittaria came in with Sam Goldberg, the Auror who would be staying in Hogsmeade during Christmas. “It’s a pleasure, Mr. Potter,” the short, bespectacled Auror told him. “Go home and enjoy your holiday, I’ll look after things here.”

Harry was sitting with his baggage in the dining room, watching Stan close up the bar and direct chairs up on the tables. “I really appreciate it, Mr. Goldberg. It’ll get a little lonely, though.”

“I don’t mind at all. I usually do something like this at Christmas. Everyone gets a chance to spend time with their families. I take off a different holiday, that’s all.”

They heard a distant train whistle; Harry shook the Aurors’ hands, checked with Stan, looked around the dining room one last time, and slung his backpack over his shoulder. He picked up his other bags and went down the High Street to Hogsmeade Station where the Hogwarts Express was standing on the track, puffs of steam rising every few seconds from the scarlet engine. Students were already crowding the platform, jostling and calling to each other. Harry spotted the Athair twins.

“Harry!” they both cried at the same time, and came running over.

“This is so brilliant!” Emma said. “Ginny told us you were coming on the train. We can all share a compartment.”

“Sounds like fun. Where is she?”

“She was waiting for Luna and Keesha in the entrance hall,” Claire said. “Neville was with her. It’ll be nice and crowded,” she giggled. “Ginny can sit on your lap.”

Harry laughed. “Or you two can ride in the overhead.”

More carriages arrived, and soon Ginny, Luna, Keesha, and Neville appeared on the platform. Ginny gave Harry a kiss; she had a big grin. “This is going to be fun. We’ll party all the way to town.”

The seven travelers boarded and found a compartment. They loaded their baggage in the overheads, and with a toot of its whistle the Hogwarts Express started chugging down the track for London.

Ginny didn’t have to sit on Harry’s lap, to the twins’ disappointment, but the compartment was crowded. Emma and Claire wanted to know all about the Christmas party at the inn; Neville had to tell them about the camping trip he and Keesha took on the Isle of Wight; and finally Ginny had to tell them how Harry had proposed to her. Harry brought out a tin of chocolate chip biscuits Winky had made from a secret Crouch family recipe, and that quieted the girls.

All the while, Luna sat in her seat next to Claire, a distant smile on her face. A lull in the conversation came, and she raised her hand. Everyone looked at her; she kept her hand up and said nothing. Finally Ginny said, “Yes, Luna, what is it?”

“I’m sorry, but I wasn’t sure if there was some kind of speaking order, and I didn’t want to go out of turn.”

Keesha reached over and patted her knee. “It’s quite all right, Luna, go ahead.”

Luna smiled. “I just wanted everyone to know that they hired a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.”

“Huh?!” Ginny and Keesha said at the same time; they looked at each other and at Luna. “How do you know? And who is it?” Ginny asked.

“I heard Professor Slughorn talking to Madam Sprout in the greenhouse this morning. I don’t know what he was doing there; I never saw him there before. It was highly unusual.”

“Maybe they fancy each other,” Claire piped up. “Ginny, you can have a double wedding.” Both twins burst out laughing, but Ginny was only mildly amused.

She turned to Luna. “So who will it be?”

“He didn’t say.” Luna picked up a copy of _The Quibbler_ and started reading. The others all stared at her until Keesha reached over and pulled the magazine down.

“Luna, how could he not say who it will be?”

“By not saying it.”

Keesha sat back. The twins were trying their best to keep from laughing, but soon failed and had to hold onto each other to keep from falling off the seat. Luna gazed at them for a moment and went back to her magazine.

“It could be anyone except Morequest Pester,” Ginny said to Keesha. “I’ll ask Ron and Percy when I get home. They know everything that’s going on. If I find out, I’ll let you know.”

The hours passed, and when the tea trolley came, Harry bought candies for everyone. Soon the suburbs of London started passing by, and in a few minutes they saw the tall buildings of the city. The twins became more and more excited as the train approached King’s Cross. When it rolled in, they leaned out the window and started waving and shouting even before it stopped. Ginny looked out and saw Percy standing next to the train. She waved to him.

They unloaded their bags and backpacks and made their way to the platform. Harry and Ginny said goodbye to Keesha and Neville; he was spending part of the holiday with his Gran and the rest at Keesha’s home. When they turned around, Luna was already gone, but Emma and Claire were standing in front of them, grinning like fiends and holding their parents’ hands.

“Mum and Dad, these are Ginny and Harry,” Emma said proudly. “Harry is the hero of the wizarding world, and Ginny is his girlfriend. They’re engaged.”

They shook hands. “Don’t believe everything you hear,” Harry said, “but I hope you know that your daughters helped save my life. Did they tell you about it?”

“They mentioned something,” their father said, a tall, good looking man. “We’re very happy and very proud for what they did. By the way, I’m George, and this is my wife Heather.”

“We’re so glad to meet you,” his wife said, a very pretty lady with reddish-blonde hair. “We’ve heard so much about you two. I hope the girls haven’t been a bother.”

“Oh, no!” Ginny exclaimed. “I’ve had lots of fun with them.” She nudged Harry and pointed; Percy was watching them impatiently from next to the barrier. “I’m sorry,” she said to the Athairs, “we have to go. My brother is waiting for us. It was very nice meeting you.”

“Is that your brother?” George asked. “He was kind enough to help us get through to the platform. It was good to meet you too.”

The Athairs walked away, Heather asking the girls if they had kept their room “nice and tidy.” Harry pushed the baggage trolley down the platform, following the Athairs, and watched as Percy opened the barrier for them.

Ginny kissed Percy. “Where are Mum and Dad?”

They’re waiting out front.” He glanced at his watch. “We have a Ministry car, and it’s supposed to be back in the garage by ten this evening.”

“Then let’s go!” Ginny took his arm and led the way through the barrier. The station was thronged with holiday travelers, and they found Molly and Arthur standing outside next to the car; Molly waved and beamed when she saw them. Arthur and Percy hustled them into the car, and Percy himself took the wheel. Soon they were rolling down the motorway to Devonshire and the Burrow. Three hours later, they stood before the front gate, and Ginny took Harry’s hand.

“I was thinking about last Christmas,” she said as they looked up at the lopsided house. “It was horrible. I had no idea where you were or if I would ever see you again. They had pulled Luna off the train and she was gone. We were all scared to death that they would arrest Daddy any day, and things were so bad at school I wasn’t sure if I wanted to go back.”

Harry put his arm around her. “Mine wasn’t too great either. We were in Godric’s Hollow, freezing our bums off. I was almost killed by his snake, my wand broke, and then Riddle came within two seconds of murdering both of us.” He smiled down at her. “It’s absolutely amazing how happy I am, Ginny. I love you so much.”

Her eyes were ablaze. “I love Christmas and I love you. This will be a grand holiday.”


	33. Christmas

That evening it began to snow, and by the time everyone went to bed it was coming down heavily. Harry had Ron’s attic room to himself, but since Ginny had reinstated the “house rule”—no sex inside the Burrow until they were married—he didn’t sleep all that well because there was no rule against very heavy snogging before bedtime.

But the next day brought a different kind of pleasure, and it more than compensated Harry for not being able to sleep with Ginny. He had spent plenty of Christmases at the Burrow and with Ron at Hogwarts, but this holiday was different. It was his first Christmas with Ginny, and it was his first Christmas without the shadow of Voldemort looming over the world. Harry discovered that celebrating the holiday with Ginny and her family under these new circumstances brought him a joyfulness and peace that he had never known.

He sat at the kitchen table with Ginny while she helped her mother prepare food, listening to Molly’s stories about her own childhood Christmases with Ginny’s grandmother. Harry loved hearing about a family with cheerful memories of holiday gatherings and the often-humorous stories that went with them. He looked at Ginny as she peeled carrots—without magic because she occasionally liked to take a bite from the end of one—and she smiled at him. He knew exactly what she was thinking: someday his own stories would mingle with those of her family, and someday other people—Weasleys and Potters—would be telling stories about him.

He sat with Arthur in front of a blazing fire in the parlor, after Molly had chased him from the kitchen when his inept attempt at a mixing spell resulted in a huge mess of cake batter all over the wall. Ginny thought it was hilarious, and Arthur also laughed when he heard what had happened. He recounted to Harry several tales of his own mishaps in Molly Prewett’s and then Molly Weasley’s kitchens.

They also talked about Harry’s decision to join the Auror training program, and Arthur told Harry how pleased he was, not only for Harry’s sake but for the sake of Kingsley Shacklebolt’s regime.

“We all knew it would be hard to make changes, but I don’t think anyone dreamed it would be this hard. No one looks on you as a savior, Harry, so don’t fret about that. And don’t be surprised if you encounter envy, either. There are plenty of small and jealous minds in this world. Kingsley knows that, and I think it’s something you know very well yourself. But if you want to keep on making a difference, then no one can stop you. I’m sorry if saying this makes you uncomfortable, but people do look to you as a leader.”

“I know that,” Harry said. “I don’t really like it, but after what happened last month with . . . with Ginny, I also know I can’t sit back and think that everything will be fine if I just ignore it. I’ll never make that mistake again.”

Arthur looked at him, and Harry thought he saw a tear in his eye. “There are some parents who, I suppose, might be concerned if their daughter was marrying you. But, Harry, Molly and I talk almost every day about how happy we are, and not just because Ginny is so happy. We are so proud of what you did and how you did it.”

Harry was totally embarrassed, but there were other feelings also, and suddenly he recognized that they were akin to something he had felt many years ago. He remembered sitting for hours in front of the Mirror of Erised, longing for exactly what was happening now. For some reason he couldn’t speak. He nodded and looked into the fireplace, afraid that his own tears would show.

The door opened and Ginny came in. “Are you okay, sweetie?” She came over and bent down, peering at him with a smile. “Mum cleaned off the wall, but I think you should wait until lunchtime before you go back in.”

Arthur laughed. “I was telling Harry about the time I Scourgified a pot that had about twenty Galleons worth of meat and vegetables in it, that she had spent five hours preparing. Fortunately it was after we were married, otherwise I think she might have cancelled the wedding.”

“Daddy, when did you ever have twenty Galleons to spend on food?”

“Well,” Arthur chuckled, “maybe it was twenty Knuts.”

Harry wiped his eyes and stood. “Let’s go for a walk before lunch. It stopped snowing and it looks beautiful out.”

Ginny glanced out the window; it was still partly cloudy, but looked to be clearing. “Good idea. I’ve been cooped up in the kitchen all morning.”

They bundled up in boots, sweaters, scarves, wool caps, and cloaks; Ginny’s scarf, cap, and mittens were bright red; Harry wore his old Gryffindor scarf, and they headed down to Fred’s grave. It had snowed about six inches, and a biting breeze picked up snow crystals and blew them into their faces. Ginny took off her mittens and brushed the snow from the headstone and they stood gazing at it holding hands. She looked around at the nearby woods and back to the house; everything was draped with a mantle of snow.

“Isn’t it beautiful? I was worried about having Christmas without Fred, but it’s so peaceful to be home. And it’s so special to be here with you.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Harry said. “But then I expect you knew that.” Ginny smiled and put her mittens back on; Harry took her hand again and they started walking into the woods. The world was muffled in a brilliant blanket of white; they could hear birds chirping, but nothing else except the crunch of their boots as they walked.

The sky had cleared and the sun shone brightly. Their breaths came out in white puffs. Ginny took off the mitten on the hand holding Harry’s and put it back on over both of their hands. Their fingers gripped tightly, and as they walked their minds seemed also to entwine. When a bird called, neither one was certain whose ears they were hearing it with; a clump of snow blew from a branch and Ginny’s hand went to her own face as if to wipe it off, but it had hit Harry’s eyeglasses, and they both laughed at her reaction.

They wandered down to the river and came on a scene as pretty as anything they had ever seen in a painting or a photograph. The snow lay on small rocks and islets in the middle of the stream; sunlight sparkled on eddies and ripples in the water. Harry put his arm around Ginny and a sense of peace engulfed them. They stood looking at the scene, and after long minutes they turned to each other. Ginny lifted her face and closed her eyes, and Harry kissed her, but not deeply; there was no need or desire for physical passion. Their lips pressed together and they felt a closeness as deep as any they had experienced when making love; they both felt as if they were floating in the air and that they were the only people in the world, that the sun, the snow, the river, the woods, all existed for themselves alone.

Harry finally broke off the kiss; Ginny straightened his glasses and peered into them, wrinkling her brow and her nose as she looked at her reflection. She adjusted her cap, took Harry’s hand inside her mitten, and they started back. Neither one had spoken since leaving Fred’s grave, yet it seemed that they had said more to each other than in all their conversations of the past week. They were silent all the way to the house; no words could add to what they felt.

The tempting aroma of freshly baked bread, and a piping hot and hearty vegetable soup awaited them in the kitchen. Molly was taking a cake out of the oven, and Harry reckoned that the disaster caused by his earlier attempt at cake-making had been rectified. While they were eating, Ron and Hermione arrived, and it was only Molly’s threat of indescribably painful punishment that kept Ron away from the cake. He finished the loaf of bread instead and tried to charm the last slice from Harry’s plate, but Ginny noticed and grabbed it in mid-air.

‘You are disgusting, Ron,” she said as she handed it back to Harry and licked the butter from her fingers. “Don’t you feed him?” she asked Hermione.

“You should know it’s hopeless,” Hermione replied. “It’s like having a dog. They’ll eat anything, and constantly.”

“I’ll bake another loaf, dear,” Molly said to Ron. “Actually, I’ll make two, and everyone else can share the second one.”

“Thanks, Mum,” Ron mumbled through a mouth full of bread and soup. “I love Christmas.”

After lunch they went up to Ron’s room, and Harry and Ginny filled them in about last weekend’s incident in the field behind the inn.

“You didn’t get a look at the second person?” Ron said. “That’s a shame; it would have been our first real break.”

“It does absolutely prove one thing,” Hermione said. “Turquoise is involved with what happened to the inn, not just with the Turntongue.”

“And I’ll bet it also means that the Death Eaters are holed up with her, or at least some of them are,” Ron added.

Harry looked puzzled. “One thing that I don’t understand is, why was she just standing there looking at the inn?”

“Because,” said Hermione, “she was Imperiused. Didn’t the Auror say they detected two spells, one of them an Imperio? The other one was your Body Binder.”

“But she was never Imperiused when I saw her,” Harry said flatly. “If you’re saying that she was acting against her will, then I never saw it. All those times when she was in the inn, using Crescerio on the Turntongue, she was not Imperiused.”

Hermione frowned. “I believe you, but I don’t understand it.”

“I think she wasn’t Imperiused when she was looking at the inn,” said Ginny. “She reacted pretty quickly when she saw us and ran. I don’t think the Curse happened until she was over the fence and in the lane.”

“And I don’t understand that, either,” Hermione said.

“Do you know how long she was standing there?” Ron asked.

“Only a minute or two,” said Harry. “When we saw her, we had just gone upstairs, and I think she would have heard us going up the steps and that would have spooked her.”

“So,” Ron said, “we know a few more things, but we have more questions. That, mate, is an indication that we are on the right track. Lesson Sixteen, page 236 in the training manual.”

“By the way,” Harry grinned, “they know you nicked those parchments. Sagittaria told me the next day.”

Ron grimaced. “Yeah, I got reamed out by Stoney and then, even worse, by Percy.”

“Stoney? Who’s that?”

“Mercander Stone. He’s my mentor. Everyone gets a mentor. He works with you, and you get to go out on cases with him. Stoney’s pretty cool. He knows how to chew you out, though.”

“I’ll bet Percy enjoyed it,” Ginny smirked.

“Sometimes he’s still a foul little prat,” Ron glowered. “I guess I deserved it. I did point out that it demonstrated some holes in their security, but they claimed that there was no security on that stuff in the first place.”

“You were trying to help me.” Harry reached over and patted his shoulder.

Ron looked around. “So, I guess we’re sleeping up here, and the girls are sleeping where?”

“In my room,” Ginny said, “by ourselves.”

Ron gazed at her sadly. “It’s asking a lot from a bloke, you know.”

“Suck it up and tough it out,” Ginny grinned maliciously. “Take a run around the house in your skivvies every evening. Or without them. That ought to cool your ardor.”

Ron gave her a sour look and started unpacking his bags. They all went downstairs when they heard cries of greeting, leaving a pile of Ron’s clothing on the bed that never made it into a dresser drawer for the entire holiday.

George and Percy had just arrived. Percy pumped Harry’s hand and said he had brought along all the official parchments Harry needed for signing up with the Auror program; it wouldn’t take more than half a day, Percy assured him. Harry said he still had a few questions, but Percy brushed them aside. He had even set up a meeting with the Chief Mentor—Saliyah Ushujaa—on Monday so that Harry could be assigned a mentor as soon as possible. So many Aurors had clamored to be assigned to Harry that Minister Shacklebolt himself might have to make the choice.

“Chief Mentor?” Harry said as he walked with Ginny, Ron, and Hermione down to Fred’s grave. “He doesn’t waste any time, does he?”

“Nope, not ol’ Perce,” Ron declared. “You can be sure he’s been planning this for months, probably ever since you had that lunch with Shacklebolt last fall. Percy picks up on things like that, it’s called having your finger to the wind. He saw that Kingsley wanted you in the program, so he set up all the parchments and forms ahead of time, just in case you decided to sign up. That way it looks like Percy is the model of efficiency, which he is, and can read the Minister’s mind to boot.”

“Yeah, but how did he know that I _would_ sign up? Hell, _I_ didn’t know.”

Hermione and Ginny giggled and Ron grinned. “It wasn’t hard to predict, mate. We all knew you weren’t happy adding up columns in that ledger book of yours.”

“Hey, I paid a lot of gold for that ledger, and your own brother George spent a lot of time showing me how to do it right.”

“Did you hear?” Ron said as they neared the grave, “George and Lee are buying up the old Zonko’s.”

Ginny clapped her mittens in glee. “Really? That’s brilliant! I hope George will be running it. I’ll get to see him all the time. Will he?”

“Dunno. You can ask him now. Here he comes.”

They were at the grave and turned to see George, Percy, Bill, and Fleur walking towards them. Fleur was carrying a large bouquet of enchanted flowers that would stay fresh for several days. She placed it on the grave and held Bill’s arm as they stood in silence. Harry and Ginny glanced at each other; they had both noticed that George and Percy were visibly upset. Apparently they did not share Ginny’s tranquility when it came to Fred’s absence from the family Christmas. Ginny decided not to ask George yet about Zonko’s.

They all went back to the house; it was time to start decorating. Harry, Ron, and Bill went out to cut down a tree, but when they got back they found everyone in the kitchen except George.

“He’s up in his room,” said Ginny, who was sitting next to her mother with her arm around her shoulders. “He was looking out the back door at Fred’s grave and he started crying. He wouldn’t talk to anyone, he just went upstairs and locked his door.”

Molly dabbed at her eyes; Arthur was sitting on her other side, looking glum. Hermione and Fleur sat with sad expressions. Only Percy was standing, his back to the room, staring out a window.

Bill beckoned to Fleur and they went upstairs. Those in the kitchen heard a knock on a door and low voices. After a moment the door opened; it shut again, and the house was quiet. Molly stared at the staircase.

“Why did Bill take her? Does he think George will talk to her but not to me?”

Arthur took her hand. “My guess is that Fleur won’t say a word. Bill knows how to talk to him. It’s hard to be gloomy when she’s in the room, though.”

She was not mollified, but got up and went to Percy. “How are you, dear?” She reached up and turned his face; there were wet streaks on it.

Percy cleared his throat and stood straight. “I’ll be fine, Mum. Don’t worry about me.” He looked around. “Let’s not be like this. It’s Christmas, we’re all here. We do have something to be sad about, but we also have things to be happy about. The world is a much better place than it was a year ago.”

Molly smiled through teary eyes, and touched Percy’s face again. “Yes, darling, that’s true.” She turned. “Ginny, you said you would take charge of the decorating.”

Ginny jumped up, and in ten minutes the house was humming with activity. Harry and Ron brought the tree in and set it up; decorations started going up all over; and the whole house began to fill with the smells of biscuits and bread. After a while Bill and Fleur came down. “He’s okay,” Bill said to Molly, “but he wants to be alone for now. He said he’ll be down for dinner.”

By late afternoon the house was bright and festive. The tree decorating would wait until after dinner, but there was a debate about Stupefying a garden gnome again to put on top. Ron and Ginny were in favor, Percy was strictly opposed, and Bill was neutral. They decided to wait for George’s vote, but Ron and Ginny went outside to scare one up, just in case.

Fleur somehow managed to persuade Molly to let her fix a batch of Christmas punch. She and Bill had brought two bottles of champagne, one of which was intended for Christmas dinner, and the other for this bowl of punch. Just before mealtime she brought it into the parlor in a beautiful crystal bowl that sparkled in the sunlight streaming through a window; she wouldn’t say how the bowl had arrived at the Burrow, only that it had belonged to her non-veela but very magical grandmother. She also refused to give out the recipe, but even the skeptical Molly smiled in delight when she tasted it.

“It tastes like . . . apricots and peaches. And there’s honey in it too, isn’t there?”

Fleur gave her most radiant smile. “Ah, Maman, if I tell you ze recipe, zere will be no mystery. It is a mystery punch.” She laughed, and everyone smiled.

George had joined them, looking rather solemn at first, but a taste of the punch and Fleur’s laughter brought a smile to his face. He gradually became more animated, even cheerful. When Molly and Arthur went out of the room for a few minutes right before dinner, Ron asked for his vote on the garden gnome.

“How can there be any question?” George said. “It will be the Fred Weasley memorial Christmas angel.”

Ron was a little startled by George’s comment, but clapped his hands. “Brilliant! We stashed one in the broom cupboard just in case, and I found the tutu you used two years ago. All we have to do is paint it.” They stopped talking when Molly put her head in the door and announced dinner.

Harry sat next to Ginny; they hadn’t talked much during the afternoon, yet Harry always had the feeling that he knew exactly where she was. He didn’t know what she was doing, but there was always an air of happiness like a beam of sunlight coming from her direction, as if she was constantly humming a favorite tune. He put his hand on her leg under the table, but withdrew it almost guiltily, remembering the house rule. Ginny glanced at his apologetic expression and he could see her shoulders shaking in silent laughter. She put her glass of juice down, put her arms around him, and kissed him. After a moment, the silence that fell around the table was broken by applause and laughter.

“Can’t it wait till you’re finished eating?” chortled George.

“No,” said Ginny. “That’s what I felt like doing. We’re engaged, so what’s your problem?” She made a face at him.

“Blimey, I can’t wait to see what they’re like after they’re married,” George said to Fleur, who was sitting next to him. “They’re likely to starve to death with all the snogging.”

“Zey will live on love,” Fleur said, and raised her glass to Ginny. “It is much more satisfying zan food.”

Harry’s hopes were now raised, and he pressed his leg against Ginny’s. But when he returned his hand to her thigh, she reached under the table and moved it away. Harry sighed and started eating his Shepherd’s pie.

After dinner the whole family helped decorate the tree, and Ron and George were able to sneak the Stupefied gnome on top when Molly started fiddling with the wireless and Arthur was in conversation with Percy about some Ministry business. The hapless gnome spent the rest of the holiday perched atop the tree, but Ron rewarded it with a slice of mince pie when they took the tree down a week later, and the gnome went back to the garden a happy camper.

Molly finished tuning the wireless, and the aging voice of Celestina Warbeck came crackling through the speaker. Fleur rolled her eyes to the ceiling, but this year said nothing, at least not in English. Molly got up to bring in dessert and hot cider, but Ginny insisted on doing it, and asked Harry to help her. They left the room with everyone watching them, but their snog in the kitchen was brief, at Ginny’s insistence.

“I really did want you to help me,” she giggled and pushed Harry’s hands away. “Careful, you may have to run around the house in your shorts with Ron.”

“If I agree to do that, will you give me five minutes—no, ten minutes alone in your room?”

“Sure, if by ‘alone’ you mean by yourself.”

“Well, then, let’s get married now. Then we won’t be breaking the rule.”

“Can’t. Aunt Muriel’s not here.”

Harry was about to make a rejoinder, when there were two loud cracks, and Kreacher and Winky stood before them. The elves bowed, and Winky looked curiously around the kitchen as Kreacher spoke. “We has come to the Burrow as you requested, Master Harry. The inn is secure. The Auror Goldberg seems to know what he is doing. May we be of service?”

“Ah! Just in time!” Harry spoke quickly. “Take that cake, those mugs, and that cauldron of cider into the parlor. We’ll be right along.”

Kreacher bowed again. He and Winky began putting mugs, plates, serving utensils, the cauldron, and the large cake that Molly had rescued from Ron on trays, and took them out of the kitchen. Ginny, who had not said a word while all this was happening, grinned at Harry.

“Okay, lover, you earned a snog,” she said. It was interrupted a second later by Molly’s shriek from the parlor.

“Uh, oh,” said Harry, “I forgot to tell your mum about the house-elves.”

But nothing else happened; they resumed their embrace, and when they stopped, Ginny leaned her head on his chest.

“I’ve dreamt about days like this,” she said, and looked up at him. “I’m in my home with my family and with you and everything’s perfect.”

“I felt like I was with you today even when I wasn’t,” said Harry; he started running his fingers through her hair and she put her head back on his chest as Harry continued. “Somehow, nothing seems to separate us. When I first started living in the inn, I felt lonely whenever you weren’t there. Now, you _are_ there, always. I’m never alone anymore.”

“No, neither am I.” She lifted her head, and Harry kissed her the same way he had kissed her that morning on the snowy bank of the river. The kitchen vanished; the universe itself seemed to vanish. All they knew were each other’s lips, each others arms . . .

A bullfrog voice spoke. “Where might Kreacher find more dessert plates?” Harry and Ginny both looked around, momentarily disoriented.

“Um, uh, what?” Ginny stammered. “Uh, lips—plates! Yes, they’re over there.” She pointed to a cabinet and giggled as Kreacher bowed and retrieved a stack of dishes and took them away. She looked back at Harry, who was staring glassy-eyed after the elf. “I guess we should go back in.”

“I guess.” He blinked several times, but didn’t move; he seemed thoughtful. “Did anyone ever tell you that love would be like this?” I mean, like being inside the other person’s life?”

She shook her head. “I see my mum and dad do things where one knows what the other one is thinking, but that’s not what I’m feeling. Is that what you’re feeling?”

Harry leaned against the table. “No, it’s way more than that. I know what it’s like to be you. Not actual thoughts, but feelings and . . . and . . .” He hesitated and sighed, “I can’t describe it. It’s just . . . you.”

“Yes, that’s what it is. And like you said, I’m never alone anymore.” She came and they kissed again until Kreacher came back, this time with Winky, looking for a bowl of cut-up fruit from the pantry. Ginny showed them where it was, and she and Harry followed the elves back into the parlor.

The fire was burning lower, and most of the light was coming from candles. The scents of pine and cinnamon filled the room; Celestina crooned softly on the wireless. Harry and Ginny sat on the hearth next to Ron and Hermione. Ginny curled up with her head in Harry’s lap and he stroked her hair and her forehead. She took his hand, kissed it, and closed her eyes and held it. Molly, who was sitting in an easy chair next to the fire knitting a pink sleeper for Fleur’s baby, gazed at them and smiled.

The next morning, Christmas day, Harry was awakened by the sound of ripping paper. Ron was sitting up in his bed going through his loot; wrapping paper and ribbons were everywhere; it looked like he had already opened all his presents.

“A jumper from Mum, as usual; an autographed Cannons’ Quaffle from Bill and Fleur; a photo of me and Hermione from Ginny—I think that’s for both of us; a dragon-hide wallet with three magically hidden compartments from Charlie; a grooming kit from Aunt Muriel, I guess that’s a hint of some kind; a necktie and cufflinks from Percy, I guess that’s a hint too; a Foe-Glass from George . . . hmm, I wonder if that’s a hint; and a year’s gift certificate from Hermione to an all-you-can-eat restaurant in Chelsea. God, I love that woman.”

Harry was about to make a few comments, when the door burst open and Ginny came flying in, followed by Hermione; both girls were wearing robes over their nightgowns. Ginny flung herself at Harry, knocking him back onto his pillow, and began smothering him with kisses.

“They’re beautiful!” she cried. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

She straddled him in the bed and held up a red velvet jewelry case trimmed in gold, opened it and took out a smaller hinged box, also of red velvet; inside were two ruby earrings. She took them out, tossed her hair back, and put them in her ears. “How do they look? They go perfectly with my ring.”

“They and you look beautiful.” Harry pulled her down and kissed her.

“Yoo-hoo, there’s two other people in the room,” Ron called. “This is exactly why these sleeping arrangements suck.”

Ginny sat up and straightened her robe but didn’t dismount from Harry. She handed him a wrapped box. “Happy Christmas. I wanted to deliver it in person.”

Harry ripped off the paper and opened it as Hermione and Ron came and peered over Harry’s shoulder. Inside was a photograph in an ornate silver frame of himself and Ginny; Harry was grinning at the camera, and Ginny had her arms around his neck and was planting a kiss on his cheek. Harry’s picture turned and kissed Ginny, and the snog continued, and continued, and continued. . . .

“Where is this from?” Harry said. “I don’t remember it. Of course, I wouldn’t have remembered anything while you were doing that.”

“Opening night at the inn,” Ginny replied. “Dennis had a camera, probably Colin’s old one. Do you like it?”

“Yes,” Harry grinned at her. “I’ll put it on my night stand so I can fall asleep looking at it. Thanks, sweetie.” He pulled her down again, as Ron and Hermione went back to Ron’s bed and sat. After a few minutes Ron started whistling “God Save The Queen” and Ginny sat up.

“So, what else did you get?” Ginny asked. Harry sat up too, but first he handed presents to Ron and Hermione. Ron got a genuine English-Irish League Golden Snitch mounted inside a display case, along with a certificate stating that it had been caught by the Cannons Seeker, Forrester Salinger, in a league match against Puddlemere United on June 28, 1996.

“This might be the last one he’s caught,” Ron observed. “This is so cool. Thanks, mate.” He put the Snitch back inside its case; it beat its wings for a few seconds before settling on the little pedestal inside.

Hermione got an elegant, dark blue silk blouse that Harry had bought in an expensive Muggle clothing store. She kissed Harry’s cheek and handed him his present. It was a book, a talking history of the Auror profession; each of the famous Aurors in it spoke about his or her most notorious cases and the techniques they used to solve them. It also described their favorite spells and charms, with charts and diagrams showing how to use them. “This is brilliant, Hermione!” Harry said, returning her kiss.

Harry opened the rest of his presents. He got the identical items that Ron had, except that he didn’t get anything from Aunt Muriel. Ginny peered into his Foe-Glass. “Someone is there,” she muttered, “but they’re not very distinct.” Harry looked at it briefly, but grunted and put it face down on the bed. “Later for that,” he said. “Today is Christmas.”

The girls left and Harry and Ron dressed. At breakfast everyone was dutifully wearing their new sweaters. Harry brought down the rest of his presents, and gave Bill and Fleur a prettily wrapped box of candles from Dervish and Banges. For George he had a book of sonnets by the Muggle playwright William Shakespeare; Percy got a fancy quill and ink set from Scrivenshaft’s; and for Molly and Arthur he had a small, handcrafted clock, since the only one he had seen in the house was the Weasley family clock that used to show everyone in Mortal Peril.

“I sent Charlie’s to him,” he told everyone. “It’s a gold chain necklace. Ginny said he likes that kind of thing, didn’t you?” He looked at her hopefully.

“You can blame me if he doesn’t, but he’ll like it.” Ginny patted his hand.

Molly was admiring the clock. “Harry, you have the best ideas. This is adorable. I’ll put it up in the parlor, it will go very nicely there.”

Everyone was pleased with their presents, although Ron grumbled a little over the grooming kit he got from Muriel, but she had given the same gift to everyone, including Arthur. After breakfast, some people went back upstairs to nap, and some went into the parlor to nap. Molly warned everyone that Christmas dinner would be served promptly at three in the afternoon, since there would be guests who would want to get home before it was too late.

Harry, however, had two more gifts to give. He found Kreacher and Winky in the pantry behind the kitchen, preparing some of the vegetable dishes and pastry mixes for the big meal; Ginny, Ron, and Hermione crowded into the tiny room with him.

“Happy Christmas!” Harry said, and handed wrapped packages to each elf.

They had very different reactions. Winky squealed with delight when she saw hers, a set of nested copper ladles. “Oh, Harry Potter,” she exclaimed, peering up with eyes as big as saucers, “how does he know what Winky wants most for Christmas?”

“You’re welcome,” Harry laughed. “The inn is now safe from attack.” Winky giggled and started examining her present.

Meanwhile, Kreacher was staring at his gift, and there were tears in his eyes. He was holding a knitted cap in his trembling hand. He stared up at Harry. “Harry Potter has given Kreacher clothes.” Hermione had her hand over her mouth, and her eyes were as wide as Winky’s; Kreacher’s, though, were sad. “Why does Harry Potter give Kreacher clothes?”

“I don’t want you to leave, Kreacher,” Harry said solemnly. “I want you to be my house-elf at the inn and at Grimmauld Place. But you have done very brave and very dangerous things for me and also for the Black family. It’s your reward. It means you can do whatever you want, and if you want to stay with me then I will be very happy.”

Kreacher bowed and turned away; he stood in a corner sobbing and shaking. Hermione took Harry’s arm and led him and the others from the pantry, upstairs to the attic room where she gave Harry a hug.

“That was beautiful,” she said, her own eyes damp. “He deserves to be free, the poor thing has gone through so much.”

Harry sat on his cot and gave her a guilty look. “Yeah but . . . my motives weren’t totally altruistic.”

They all stared at him. “What do you mean?” Hermione said suspiciously. “You’re not going to ask him to do something, are you?”

“I am, and now he can say no if he doesn’t want to do it.”

‘Harry, he’s old and tired. You can’t do that. It will kill him. We had no choice then, and everything was at stake. This is completely different.”

Ron slowly nodded, but Ginny looked puzzled. “What are you two talking about?”

Hermione turned to her. “When we were hiding in Grimmauld Place last year, we needed to find Mundungus Fletcher. He had stolen the locket, the one Sirius’s brother Regulus took from the cave. Dung didn’t know it was a Horcrux. Kreacher told us he could find him, and he brought him back to Grimmauld Place. That’s how we traced it to Umbridge. Now Harry wants to use Kreacher to find Turquoise Southeby.” She shot Harry an accusatory glare.

“He has a choice now,” Harry said. “That’s why I gave him clothes. I mean, I wanted to free him, anyway, but he doesn’t have to go find her if he doesn’t want to.”

“He won’t say no, Harry, you know that!” Hermione was now angry; she stood directly in front of him with both hands on her hips. “He’ll do whatever you want, even if it isn’t good for him. If she’s hiding with Death Eaters, they won’t hesitate to kill him.” She turned away and glared at Ron and Ginny, then spun back on Harry. “How could you do that!” She was crying.

“It—it seemed like a good idea. We have to find her. The Fidelius . . . This is the only way we’ll find out who tried to kill me.” He stood up and his voice rose. “And Ginny! I could have hurt her worse than I did, or even . . . even worse!”

He looked at Ginny. They stared at each other, and suddenly Harry’s face fell and he sat on the cot again. “Oh, I . . .”

Ginny came and took his hands. “Harry, Hermione is right. You shouldn’t ask Kreacher to do that. It could be really dangerous. And he’s getting so old. You’ve mentioned it yourself.”

Harry bit his lip and looked directly at Ginny. Her grip tightened; they were still for a long moment. Finally Ron asked in a quiet voice, “Is something going on between you two?”

Harry let out a breath. “Yeah,” he said without looking at Ron, “something’s going on.”

Ginny sat next to him. “Could you two leave us alone for a bit?”

Hermione turned on her heel and stalked out. Ginny sprang up and caught her on the landing outside the door. “Hermione, he’ll be fine, he’s already changed his mind. He knows it wasn’t right.”

She looked at Ginny dubiously. “I hope so.”

Ron had come out and eyed Ginny curiously. “How do you know he changed his mind? He didn’t say a thing.”

“I’ll tell you later.”

Ginny went back into the room and closed the door. Harry was sitting on his cot with his back against the pillows looking towards the window at the end of the room, but turned when Ginny sat next to him. He spoke before she could.

“Do you remember that night after Fred’s funeral when we walked down to the grave, and the moon came up?”

Ginny rested her chin on his drawn up knees. “I do. You were very quiet.”

“It was a bad night. All I could think of were the people who had died. Hedwig and Dobby too. I was lying right here in this bed, and it didn’t seem like there was any place in the world for me. I had no home, no family. I never had a room like this with neat stuff from my childhood. I had nothing.” He paused and reached to touch Ginny’s face; she was watching him and kissed his hand when it brushed her lips.

“Then you came and got me and we went out to the grave. You cried, but you told me it was because you were crazy for me. Those were the words. Crazy.” He gave a short chuckle and looked at the window again. “I knew at that moment,” he said, turning back to her, “that my life would be with you. And now I think that I always knew. Maybe we were never alone but we didn’t know it.”

Ginny smiled. “Maybe. It’s nice, whenever it started.”

They were silent; Harry tapped his finger on his thigh. “I really thought it was a good idea.”

“It was. Kreacher should be free. Not Winky, though. She would probably start drinking again. She needs structure in her life.” Ginny giggled and Harry smiled.

“I thought I was doing something to protect both of us, not just you.”

“I know.” There was another silence.

“We do need to find them. We won’t be safe until we do.”

“That’s right.”

“Will you stop agreeing with me?” Harry laughed. He let his knees drop and collected Ginny in his arms. “I did something stupid, and you’re agreeing with me. That’s no help.”

Ginny moved so that she was comfortably on top. “You didn’t do anything stupid. You might have, but your friends kept you from actually doing it. Freeing Kreacher was beautiful, just like Hermione said. And Kreacher knew it too.”

Harry wasn’t really listening. His mouth was moving all over her face, and his hands were moving all over the rest of her. Ginny gave a little whimper. “I guess one violation won’t be so bad.”

When they got downstairs Ron gave them a suspicious look.

“Want to go for a walk?” Ginny asked, preempting his interrogation.

The four went outside into a day that was more beautiful than yesterday: warmer and no breeze. They cleared snow from four chairs near the garden and sat, basking in the sun. Harry was the first to broach the subject of Kreacher.

“I won’t ask him to go look for Southeby. He’s free, he can do whatever he wants.”

Hermione opened her eyes; she had been leaning back in her chair with them shut. “That’s good, Harry. I’m glad you changed your mind.” She smiled and closed her eyes again.

“Say.” Ron sat up and looked at Ginny. “While you were upstairs talking—” he gave her a meaningful look “—Dad told me that Hogwarts has a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, but McGonagall won’t say who.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Ginny said. “Luna overheard Slughorn telling Sprout. Why is she keeping it a secret?”

“Dunno. She was down at the Ministry yesterday afternoon to sign papers, and she told Dad it would be a big surprise. You know,” he poked Harry’s arm and laughed when Harry startled. “Wake up, mate. I sure as hell won’t be leaving you two alone in my room again.”

Harry looked around. “Was I asleep? What time is it?”

They all laughed. “We were talking about the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher,” Ginny said. “Dad heard something from McGonagall.”

Harry blinked and sat up. “Do you know who?”

“No,” Ron answered, “but I was about to say, a couple of people thought it might be you.”

“Me?” Harry looked at Ron in surprise. “That’s ridiculous. How would I teach that?”

“The same way you taught Dumbledore’s Army,” said Ron. “I learned more from you than from any of those other clowns, that’s for sure.”

“I know some spells, sure, but I don’t know anything about the history or the theory. And what would I do in front of a class of giggling first-years? I don’t know how to change nappies.”

“I wouldn’t mind being your student,” Ginny said in a low, seductive voice.

“See?” said Harry. “I couldn’t possibly teach that class, not with Ginny in it.”

They decided that Harry was right, and also that they had no idea who the new teacher would be. Soon the temperature started to drop, and Hermione cast a warming spell and they sat and talked until they heard a loud whistle; Fleur was beckoning to them from the back door.

“Dinner time.” Ron heaved himself up. “I wonder who else is coming.”

They walked back to the house and found that Lee Jordan, Angelina Johnson, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Saliyah Ushujaa had joined the company. Harry steeled himself for the onslaught of questions from Kingsley and Saliyah, but as he sat at the table he could also feel the comforting presence of Ginny; she was on his right and he gave her arm an appreciative rub.

They all sat, but Arthur Weasley rose and everyone looked at him as he raised a glass of Fleur’s champagne.

“Before we start in on this marvelous feast, I want to say a few brief words. This is a special Christmas, in one bad way but in many very good ways. Our dearest Fred is gone, and he will always be missed. But as Percy said only yesterday, the world is a much better place than it was a year ago. Every one of us here helped to make that happen. In a few months there will be another Weasley, and a very beautiful one if she has only half the looks of her mother. And a little later, we will have a wedding, and our family will grow again. I raise my glass to us, and to the world we are making, in which all these wonderful things are coming to pass.”

He drained his glass and the others followed. Soon serving dishes were moving around the table, conversation and laughter filled the air, and the comfort and joy of the season filled the spirits of the Weasley family and their guests.


	34. Auld Lang Syne

Everyone crowded into the parlor after dinner while the house-elves cleaned up in the kitchen. Molly made a half-hearted attempt to stay and supervise, but Ginny reminded her that Kreacher had done a fine job after Fred’s funeral; he knew where everything went and exactly how Molly liked things. Whenever she heard a noise from the kitchen she tried to spring up, but Arthur kept her in her seat with a hand on her shoulder.

Harry sat with Ginny on the hearth. He was expecting a barrage of questions and comments from Kingsley and Saliyah about the Auror training program, but it was Percy who kept bringing it up and it started to get on Harry’s nerves. Kingsley, among others, noticed, and he caught Percy’s eye and that was the end of it.

Instead of pestering Harry, everyone thanked him. When Kingsley added his own appreciation, Harry’s embarrassment was complete. He looked to Ginny for help, but all she did was beam proudly and squeeze his hand.

“By the way,” Harry said to Kingsley in an attempt to change the subject, “we heard that Professor McGonagall hired a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Do you know who it is?

“I do,” Kingsley smiled, “but she wants it to be a surprise. It’s very unlike Minerva, I must say. But I think everyone will be pleased. It’s no secret that the post has a bad reputation, so it did take a while to find this person and convince her—” He stopped, and looked around guiltily. “Well, maybe I’d better not say any more.” He laughed his big, booming laugh. “Good thing for me it’s not a state secret, just a whim of the Headmistress’s.”

Later that evening the four were sitting in Ron’s room. The house was quiet once again; the guests had departed. “A witch,” Ron said thoughtfully. “Ushujaa, maybe? There’s a couple of old crones in the Wizengamot but—”

“Old what?” Hermione said, eyebrows raised. “They could probably jinx you into oblivion, Ronald.”

“Okay, elderly gentlewomen, then. Is that better? I still can’t see any of them teaching at Hogwarts.” No one else had any ideas, so they went back to the topic of Turquoise Southeby and the Fidelius charm. As much as they tried to analyze it, they could find no solution.

All the Weasley children remained at the Burrow through the weekend, but only Ginny and Harry stayed on after Sunday; they were planning to remain there until Ginny went back to school after New Year’s Day. Harry managed to fend off Percy until late Sunday afternoon, but Percy finally cornered him in the kitchen and unrolled a long parchment on the table.

“If you fill out these forms now, it will save quite a bit of time when you come in to register. I can hand them in tomorrow to the proper officials, but if _you_ take them in, you’ll have to sit around and wait while they emboss each one ten times and stamp it twenty-five times. They’ll all want to show off to their colleagues how they’re helping Harry Potter become an Auror.”

Harry was convinced, so he spent two hours filling out the forms. He also wrote an essay stating in five hundred words or less why he wanted to become an Auror; attested that he had never been a practitioner of Dark Arts; affirmed that he would hold the Ministry of Magic, the Minister for Magic, and all his subordinates harmless and not liable for any injury or disfiguration that befell him; accepted all rules, regulations, and restrictions that his instructors imposed; and signed his name thirty-odd times at the places Percy indicated. His hand was sore by the time he finished, but he was grateful to Percy for helping him.

“It’s a feather in his cap,” Ron said of Percy just before he and Hermione Floo’d back to Diagon Alley. “It’s all a ridiculous game down there, and when Perce shows up tomorrow with twelve feet of parchments filled out by Harry Potter, it’ll be a career day for him.”

“I’m glad I could help him out,” Harry chuckled. “Better than sitting around offices all day with people staring at me.”

They agreed to get together for New Years Eve, and soon Harry and Ginny were alone. And like it had been last summer, Molly and Arthur went up to bed early, obviously to give them some privacy. Harry moved a big easy chair so that it was right in front of the fire, and they stayed up late making each other crazy.

They spent Monday being lazy, once again having pleasant talks with Molly and Arthur. Harry had never felt closer to them, and it made him feel even closer to Ginny, if that was possible. He thought about the fact that having parents like the Weasleys was something he had never known as a child, but it didn’t make him melancholy, only glad now to be part of their family. He even asked them about his mother and father, and they told him some stories he had not heard before. Ginny listened with him, and he felt the contentment she got from his own pleasure.

On Tuesday, Arthur went back to work, and later in the morning Harry Floo’d to the Ministry of Magic to enroll in the Auror training program; he was also going to hook up the fireplace in his parlor to the Floo Network. Saliyah had given him a special pass that allowed him to use the fireplaces in the Atrium, and from there he took a lift to the second level and followed signs to the program’s office. He walked into a very tidy room with two desks. At a small one facing the door sat a young witch who Harry didn’t know; the nameplate on her desk said Audrey Tinklebell. She looked up, smiled at Harry, and turned to the desk farther back where Percy sat bent over a stack of parchments.

“Harry Potter is here,” she announced; Percy looked up with a smile.

“Harry!” He straightened the pile of parchments and came to greet him. “Excellent, excellent! We’ll have this business done in no time, and then we can do lunch; Ron said he’ll join us. I had all your parchment-work processed yesterday. A couple of people had to be prodded a little, but everyone’s very enthusiastic, very enthusiastic. And after lunch we’ll see Minister Shacklebolt. He’s going to tell you who your mentor will be.” Percy leaned towards Harry and said in a loud whisper, “He wouldn’t even tell me who it is.” Harry just nodded; he would let Percy guide him through the maze, and whatever he didn’t understand he would ask Ron about later.

Percy gathered up the stack of parchments and led Harry out the door. “We’ll be back in an hour, Audrey,” he said to the witch, and Harry caught the smile that passed between them; he would have to ask Ron about _that_ , too.

Harry had no idea what happened in the next hour, and very little recollection of it afterwards. They visited a half-dozen offices that all looked the same with the same wizard or witch asking him the same questions and having him sign the same parchments. He thought he had signed all the necessary documents at the Burrow, but apparently not. It made him recall the nonsensical official notice he had received from the Ministry last summer after his encounter with the Muggles on the beach.

But in an hour it was finished, and Harry had in his pocket an official identification card stating that he was a trainee-employee of the Office of Magical Law Enforcement. It felt very good, and he smiled to himself and patted his pocket, anticipating Ginny’s excited reaction when he showed it to her.

He and Percy went back to the office where Ron was waiting; he gave a pump of his fist and a high-five when Harry showed him the card. Audrey joined them and they headed down to the crowded and noisy cafeteria, located off the Atrium. They went through the food line and took their trays to a table in a corner. Percy did all the talking, but after fifteen minutes Harry stopped listening and became lost in thought about Ginny, and how happy she was going to be now that he was officially enrolled.

He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned; he and Ron were alone at the table. “Let me guess,” Ron grinned, “you’re daydreaming about my sister.”

“Where’s Percy?”

“He said to meet him in his office at one o’clock. He and his friend had something to do.”

“Friend?”

“Yeah,” Ron laughed. “She just started working with him yesterday, but I think they already knew each other. I’ll have to ask George if he knows anything about her.”

“It looked to me like they were more than friends,”

Ron nodded. “Well, did anyone say anything to you about what you’ll be doing? I mean, you are a little behind at this point. I don’t think you’ll have any trouble catching up, but we just started going out on cases a week or so before the holiday break. I wonder if they’ll let you do that right away.”

Harry frowned. “I don’t want special treatment. If I have to sit in a classroom for a couple of months, that’s fine. But no one said anything. I was just signing papers all morning, and I have no idea what they were. For all I know I signed away all my gold in Gringotts.”

Ron snorted. “You just met the people who really run the Ministry. We call them Ministry Gnomes. Just nod when they tell you to do something, then ignore it. They don’t expect you to actually do what they say, as long as you agree with them.”

Harry looked bemused. “You’re kidding. How does anything actually get done?”

“That’s the beauty of it. People like Dad, Saliyah and, I have to admit, Percy just go out and do their jobs.” He stared thoughtfully at Harry. “Kingsley has credibility because of what he did at Hogwarts last May, so every once in a while the Gnomes listen to him. But Saliyah has a problem; she’s his girlfriend, so no matter how competent she is, the Gnomes have a built-in excuse to ignore her, or even sabotage her. You, mate, would not have that problem. In fact, the same slugs who sit around oozing slime all day and making it hard for everyone else, would probably do whatever you wanted.”

“How is that?” Harry was finding this conversation more and more interesting; he felt amused about being cast as the leader of an army of slugs, but Ron had clearly been doing a lot of observing and thinking about what was going on in the Ministry. It was an intriguing side of his best mate that he had not seen before. Actually, he smiled to himself, it reminded him a little of Hermione.

Ron was speaking again. “They didn’t like it when the Death Eaters were running things. The bastards were cruel and arbitrary, and a bunch of bureaucrats got thrown into Azkaban just for fun. Did you know that the day after you killed Riddle there was a mini-revolt here? Some people got hurt, but they made it a lot easier for Kingsley to take over. When Dad came back to work he found your picture on walls all over the place.”

Harry grimaced. “I hope they’re gone by now.”

“Not from everywhere, but you won’t see any in the training program office. Pester took them all down.”

They both laughed. “How is the old sod?” Harry asked. “I can’t imagine that shagging his prime suspect was what they expected of him.”

“He’s not allowed to leave his desk,” Ron grinned. “It’ll take him years to get his career back on track, if he decides to stick around, that is.”

Harry checked the time, and he and Ron went back up to the second level. Ron returned to the classroom, right down the hall, and Percy escorted Harry to the Minister’s office; Percy left him in the antechamber, where the witch behind the desk kept smiling and asking if he wanted tea or some of the Christmas biscuits she had made herself and brought in to the office.

Half an hour later Kingsley Shacklebolt strode in from the corridor. “Harry, I’m so sorry, I got delayed in a Magical Transportation meeting. Come.” He took Harry’s arm and they went into the Minister’s office. It was spacious, high-ceilinged, tastefully furnished, paneled in oak, and the walls were lined with bookshelves. Portraits of former Ministers—the deceased ones —hung above the bookshelves, and Harry saw Rufus Scrimgeour gazing inscrutably at him. Harry nodded to him; someday he would have to ask him what had happened the day he was murdered, and if he had indeed protected Harry from capture. Scrimgeour did not return the nod, and looked away.

There was a large fireplace at one end of the room with comfortable easy chairs, an arrangement that reminded Harry of the Gryffindor common room. Sitting in one of the chairs was Saliyah Ushujaa. She smiled at Harry and stood. “Were you waiting outside? I’m sorry, if I had known I would have asked you to come in.”

“That’s okay,” Harry grinned, “I passed the time with sugar biscuits.”

Kingsley’s laugh filled the room. “Margie is famous for her baked goods.” He gestured towards the fireplace and Harry took a seat next to Saliyah. The Minister pulled a chair around to face Harry. “First of all, welcome to the Ministry of Magic. I can’t tell you how pleased I am that you’re now working for us. My level of optimism about the future has just increased tenfold.”

“It feels kind of strange, actually.” Harry put his hand over the pocket with his new ID card. “For so many years I thought of this place as the enemy, but now here I am about to start a job.” He laughed self-consciously.

“If it wasn’t the enemy, it was damn close,” Kingsley agreed, shaking his head. He looked at Harry with a mischievous grin. “Percy told you that the Chief Mentor and I would introduce you to your mentor. Well . . .” He gestured to Saliyah. “Meet your mentor.”

Harry’s jaw dropped. He looked at Saliyah in total surprise. “How—? Why—?” He turned to the Minister. “That’s—that’s—”

Kingsley and Saliyah both laughed. “I hope you can be more articulate when we go out on a job,” she said. “I told Kingsley that’s what I wanted. Actually, you’re going to be a little bit more than my student. It won’t be a formal position, but I’d like to consider you as my assistant. As long as we don’t call you that, no one can complain about our breaking any rules. You’ll be attending classes like the other trainees, but your field work will be out of my office. And you’ll start that immediately. What do you think?”

“I think I’m a little overwhelmed. I mean, I don’t know anything. Do you really think it’s a good idea? Everyone else has been training for half a year, won’t they be, you know . . .”

“Disgruntled? Upset? No, I don’t think so. Half the trainees were—are—members of Dumbledore’s Army. When they learned you were joining us, they actually started cheering. It was a bit amusing, and extremely encouraging.”

Harry sat back; he was having trouble digesting this turn of events. How was he expected to learn what the other trainees had learned? Would they really accept him as the assistant to the Head Auror? What would Saliyah expect of him; he had no experience in the kind of work Aurors did. What kind of work did Saliyah do “out of her office?”

Kingsley was watching him closely. “You look a little stunned,” he smiled warmly. “That’s understandable, but be assured that both Saliyah and everyone else in the program know that you will be starting a little behind. But we also know what you are capable of. You fought—”

“Yes, but I had so much help!”

“And you will have help, no matter what you do as an Auror,” Saliyah said. “We work together, we back each other up. It’s always been like that, no one who goes out on a case is alone. And you, Harry, have an even greater advantage: Dumbledore’s Army.” She leaned closer, her dark eyes intense and excited. “We want to recruit as many members of Dumbledore’s Army as we can. Do you see? They will bring very developed skills, but more important, we know where their hearts are. Harry, they will be very loyal to you.”

Harry was now truly stunned. Kingsley and Saliyah had everything figured out and planned down to the last dot on the last “i”. And their plan seemed to be that Harry Potter was supposed to become the leader of a band of Aurors. But that kind of leadership was a position he had never wanted, in fact had shunned.

He started to shake his head, but other thoughts and images began to float through his mind: the line of students signing the parchment in the old Hog’s Head, risking everything because they believed in Harry Potter; Ginny, Hermione, Ron, Luna, and Neville in the Forbidden Forest, telling him that they would not allow him to leave them behind when he went to rescue Sirius; Ron’s anguished shame because he had abandoned Harry and Hermione in the middle of their quest for the Horcruxes; Neville offering to help him after Harry had told him to shut up, because Neville knew that the real Harry would never do such a thing; and Ginny, past the end of exhaustion, bursting into the inn with that blazing look on her face which only minutes before had borne the bruise that Harry himself had inflicted, because she loved him, because she believed in him.

All those people. . . . Did he believe in himself? Hadn’t he told Arthur Weasley just a few days ago that he would never stand aside again and let the world hurt Ginny? He touched the card in his pocket, and as he did so a presence lightly brushed his mind like a feather on a breeze. He closed his eyes; if that presence was not Ginny, it was his own need for her.

When he opened his eyes, the Minister for Magic and the Head Auror were peering at him with puzzled, almost concerned looks. Harry smiled at them. “I’m fine, when do I start?”

Kingsley leaned forward and slapped Harry’s knee. “Wonderful!” He and Saliyah both had big smiles. “Ask your new boss.”

“Monday, January eleventh, at nine o’clock,” Saliyah said. “But you’ll be getting a wagonload of information the week before. It’ll tell you everything you need to know. Don’t worry about buying any books or parchments or quills. We’ll be giving you everything you need.” She took his hand. “Harry, thank you again.”

They all stood. “This is a great day for the wizarding world,” Kingsley said; he laughed as Harry blushed. “Okay, I won’t say that again. But I will thank you.” He shook Harry’s hand, put his arm around his shoulders, and led him to the door. “Happy New Year, Harry, and say hello to that wonderful fiancée of yours.”

Harry grinned, grabbed a biscuit on his way out—Margie smiled and wished him well—and went looking for Arthur Weasley’s office. He found it after getting lost twice and asking two wizards for help; they both glanced at his scar but said nothing; Harry was grateful for those small acts of politeness.

Arthur looked up as Harry stood in the doorway of his tiny office. “Harry! Are you all set with the training program? Did they assign your mentor?”

“Yes, Saliyah Ushujaa,” Harry replied somewhat diffidently. Arthur’s eyebrows rose.

“Saliyah? Well, that’s very interesting. And you met with Percy too? Everything was in order, I’m sure.”

“Completely,” Harry smiled. “And Ron ate lunch with us.”

“Excellent. Well, we can catch up this evening. I’m sure Molly will want to know everything that happened. Ginny, of course . . . does she already know?” Arthur looked at Harry with a curious expression.

Harry laughed too loudly. “Oh, no, I don’t think so. I guess we’re pretty close, but we, uh, we don’t exactly . . .” He stumbled to a stop, and for want of a better way to avoid answering, peered at the poster on the wall behind Arthur’s head.

Arthur turned and gazed up at Sgt. Pepper. “Ah. He’s one of the Beagles. That’s a Muggle rock group, very famous, I’m told.”

Harry nodded. “I’ve heard of them. Well, Mr. Weasley, do you think we can get my fireplace hooked up?”

Arthur came from behind the desk and Harry backed out the door. “Level six,” Arthur said. “It’ll only take a minute to get there. The old friend I mentioned should be there, Jackson Bearcross. He’s a capital fellow, he’ll be pleased to help you.”

They walked to the lifts and took one to the sixth level. The Floo Network Authority was down a short corridor and through a set of doors charmed to look like a fireplace. There was no antechamber or secretary sitting at a desk, only a cavernous room hung around the walls with dozens, maybe hundreds, of large maps of cities, towns, counties, and other locations in the British Isles. The maps were crisscrossed with white lines and scattered with blue dots. Every few seconds a dot flashed green, and a red dot moved along one of the lines, branching and turning, until finally it reached another blue dot, sometimes on a different map, which flared green in turn. Wizards and witches watched the maps, occasionally giving one a tap with his or her wand. They also had clipboards dangling from their necks by fine gold chains, with magical quills poised over them, and when the witch or wizard spoke, the quill wrote on a piece of parchment attached to the clipboard.

Most of the people in the room were monitoring the maps, but a few sat at desks in the middle. Arthur led Harry to one near the center. A tall, elderly wizard sat at it, talking to a witch who was bent over a map spread out on the desk. They both looked up when Harry and Arthur approached, and they both stared at Harry for a moment. The wizard rose to his feet and grinned.

“Arthur, it’s good to see you. And I see you’ve brought Mr. Potter, as you said.” He turned to the witch. “Give us a moment, Marilyn, would you?” The witch nodded and smiled at Harry, rolled up the map and walked away.

Arthur introduced them, and continued. “Harry would like to connect a fireplace in his property to the Network. And, he needs extra security. There have been some problems, and he wants—well, why I am telling it? Harry, you tell him exactly what you want.”

“It’s the old Hog’s Head Inn in Hogsmeade,” Harry said, and Bearcross nodded. “I renovated it, and now there’s a flat upstairs with three fireplaces, and I want one of them connected. But I don’t want just anyone to be able to use it. Someone’s tried to vandalize the inn a few times, so I don’t want to give them a way of getting inside.”

The wizard nodded again. “There is a standard level of restriction that automatically goes on every residential connection. If you want something more elaborate, you have to get authorization from the Magical Law Enforcement office.” He smiled. “In your case I don’t think that will be a problem.”

“And what will the elaborate security do?” Harry asked.

“It will block anyone who is not specifically authorized by you from entering your fireplace. Actually, it keeps them from entering your Network branch. It costs two Galleons a month.”

“And who keeps that list?”

“It is magically maintained in our system. No one will be able to change it except you, not even one of our supervisors.” He gestured around the room, apparently including everyone in it. “If you want more protection than that, you can get it, but the cost is rather high. Very few people do.”

Harry thought for a moment. “What’s that standard level you mentioned? Would that be enough?”

Bearcross shrugged. “You’ll have to decide yourself. The standard package keeps out everyone who is named on a list that you can maintain yourself at the location of the fireplace. Most people use it for nosey neighbors or a relative they don’t like. The higher level allows in only the people on the list that we keep here, or rather in our vaults. You can see that it’s much more restrictive.”

“And where is your vault?”

Bearcross bowed his head slightly. “I beg your pardon, Mr. Potter, we’d rather not say. I’m sure you understand.”

“No problem. So, what do I do now? I want that second level, so do I have to go back to Magical Law Enforcement?”

Arthur spoke before Bearcross could answer. “No need to, Harry. I’ll take care of it. When they want your gold, I’ll let you know.”

“Just leave a diagram with Arthur showing us which fireplace you want connected,” the wizard said. “And it was very nice meeting you Mr. Potter.” He extended his hand, but seemed to want to say more. Harry shook the hand, and Bearcross held it. “Mr. Potter, my wife’s parents are Muggles. She was in the Department of Mysteries when you freed her and all those others. I can never thank you enough.”

Harry looked down. “I’m glad I could do something,” he mumbled. “You’re welcome.”

Bearcross squeezed his hand and sat back down. “As soon as we get that authorization, it’ll take about three days to set up the connection. I’d say with the holiday, it won’t be done until after the first.”

“That’s fine, and thanks for everything.”

They walked to the lifts. “I guess I’ll head back down to the Atrium,” Harry said as they waited. “Thanks for helping me, Mr. Weasley.”

“It’s my pleasure, and it’s also a nice break from the routine, even if this is my first day back from holiday,” Arthur grinned. A lift clattered to a halt in front of them. “Go ahead, you take it. I’ll get the next one. And I’ll see you when I get home.”

Harry took the lift to the Atrium and Floo’d back to the Burrow. Ginny was sitting at the kitchen table reading a textbook when Harry came through the fireplace. She jumped up with a squeal of delight and leaped into his arms.

“Mmm,” she kissed him. “I missed you. How did everything go? Something surprising happened, didn’t it? I could feel something happening.”

‘You’ll never guess.” Harry deposited her in a chair and poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice from a pitcher standing on the counter. “Saliyah Ushujaa is my mentor. I’m going to be her assistant. And look!” He took his new identification card from his pocket and proudly held it up.

“Oh, Harry, this is brilliant!” She read the card, ran her fingers over the embossed gold star, and looked up, her eyes glistening. “I’m so proud of you. I know you’re doing this because it’s what you want, but it makes me feel so good.” She came to him and they kissed.

“Where’s your mum?” Harry asked as his hands wandered here and there.

“In the parlor, knitting more clothes for Fleur’s baby.”

Harry dropped his hands. “Oh, well, I can always run around the house.”

“That’s what it’s there for. But can I send for the _Daily Prophet_ first? I hear they’re paying fifteen Sickles for breaking news stories.”

“If you do, I’ll make _you_ run around the house naked.” He leered wickedly. “I bet they’ll pay a lot more for that story.”

“Okay, and I’ll split the reward with you.”

“Merlin, you are shameless.” Harry laughed. “Come on, let’s see if your mum’s run out of pink yarn yet, and I’ll tell you both about my day.”

They went into the parlor where Molly greeted Harry; her knitting needles were clacking away, with an entire basket of pink yarn sitting on the floor at her feet. Harry showed Molly his new ID card, and told them both about his lunch with Ron and Percy, and his interview with Kingsley and Saliyah. “I’m still worried about how I can do it,” Harry said. “I guess I’ll have to learn fast.”

“You’ve always been a fast learner, dear,” Molly said as she started another skein of yarn. “You’re smart, you’re talented—”

“And you’re handsome,” Ginny giggled. “You’ll have no trouble extracting confessions from witches. And what happened when you met Dad? Did you get hooked up to the Floo Network?”

Harry described the cavernous room with the maps on the walls, and what he needed to do to get his fireplace hooked up. Ginny was sitting next to him on the couch and he hugged her with one arm. “You’ll be able to Floo over from school now.”

Ginny looked quickly at her mother, and Harry followed her glance with a guilty face. Molly’s lips were pursed, but they couldn’t tell if it was Harry’s comment or if she was just concentrating on her knitting. Harry gave Ginny a sheepish grin and she poked her finger in his side. Soon they were poking each other and giggling like first-years, until Molly cleared her throat.

“Ginny, why don’t you get dinner started? We’re having a pot roast with mashed potatoes.” She smiled at them both.

“Sure, Mum, I’ll take care of it.” She and Harry walked sedately to the door, but as soon as it was closed they started tickling each other again, stumbling into the kitchen where the tickling became a snog, and in a minute Harry was leaning Ginny backward against the table and caressing her in some fairly intimate places.

With a loud groan she pushed him away and stood up, tucking her blouse back in. “Okay,” she said, taking a deep breath and looking around the room, “what’s for dinner?”

“I have a suggestion,” said Harry, leering again.

“I’ll bet you do.” Ginny went and looked in the pantry. “Ah, Winky, there you are. Can you give us a hand? Mum said we’re having a pot roast for dinner.” She turned back to Harry. “As for you, Potter, I think it’s cold enough outside that a run around the house will solve your problem.”

Harry had a mournful expression, and Ginny laughed. She came and gave him a quick kiss. “Come, help with dinner, it’ll take your mind off it.”

Harry heaved a sigh. “Okay, I give up. Should I peel potatoes or set the table, or what?”

“Actually, just sit and talk to me. I like being domestic with you.”

Harry smiled. “I like it too.”

He looked around as Winky and Kreacher emerged from the pantry carrying the makings for a pot roast. Winky had a rope tied around her waist with the copper ladles hanging from it, clanking together as she walked. Kreacher, wearing his new cap, bowed to Harry.

“Good afternoon, Master Harry,” he rumbled. “Harry Potter is now an employee of the Ministry of Magic.”

Harry was no longer surprised at an elf’s mysterious knowledge of something like that. “I’m starting in a couple of weeks. And they’re connecting the fireplace in the flat to the Floo Network.”

Kreacher nodded. “Elves doesn’t need Floo.” He joined Winky at the sink, where they both stood on a chair and began washing vegetables. Ginny started setting the table.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you something interesting,” Harry said to her. “I think Percy has a girlfriend.”

“Not that Penelope what’s-her-name?”

“Nope, Audrey Tinklebell. She’s his secretary and she came to lunch with us.”

“His secretary? I thought you weren’t supposed to do things like that.”

“Well, Percy is. She’s very pretty and seems nice.”

The table was set, and Ginny checked to see how the elves were doing. “Don’t peel the potatoes,” she said to Winky. “We like them unpeeled.” She went and sat across from Harry. “Maybe she can loosen him up a little. Did you find out anything else about her? Where does she live?”

“Nothing. Ron didn’t know anything except that she started working with him yesterday.”

Ginny leaned on her elbows and grinned. “Good work, love. Got any more hot gossip for me?”

A short time later Arthur arrived home, and he told Harry that his fireplace hookup was scheduled for January 4. All Harry had to do was draw a diagram of his flat and mark which fireplace he wanted to connect; Arthur would bring it into work tomorrow and deliver it to the Floo Regulation Panel. He had contacted Saliyah Ushujaa about the enhanced security level, and she had personally approved it. In less than a week Harry would have a working fireplace.

They ate dinner and spent a quiet evening in the parlor, talking, reading, knitting. When Harry came down for breakfast next morning, Mrs. Weasley was wearing a blue smock with her name stitched on the chest pocket, and her hair was tied back with a blue scarf.

“Mum’s working part-time in St. Mungo’s as an orderly for Healer Derwent,” Ginny explained over bowls of porridge. “She goes in twice a week.”

Harry waited until Molly had left the room and said to Ginny in a low voice, “So we’ll be alone in the house today?”

She gave him a knowing look. “Yes, but I’m locking myself in my room, and if you Apparate inside it I’ll put the bat bogeys on your rear end and you won’t be able to sit for a month.”

“Yes, but—” Ginny pointed to the door and made a circular motion with her finger. “I know, I know,” Harry grumbled, “run around the house in my shorts. Okay, if you want to shock the neighbors, that’s what I’ll do.”

Ginny took their bowls to the sink, got two mugs and poured coffee. “We don’t have any neighbors,” she said as she sat back down.

“Hmm. That’s right.” Harry took his mug, and smiled at her. “I’ll just have to adore you from afar, then.”

“That’s sweet.” She kissed him and went to the door and looked out. “It’s another beautiful day, let’s go for a walk after Mum leaves.”

After Ginny’s parents left for work, she and Harry went out. They hadn’t been in the village for quite a while and Ginny wanted to see the Christmas decorations that the Muggles had put up. They wandered around the streets and lanes for an hour or so and spent some time in the shops on the village green. Ginny knew several of the shopkeepers and introduced Harry. Some of them noticed her ring, and congratulated them

When they returned to the Burrow, Kreacher and Winky were making lunch, but otherwise the house was quiet. They ate and went into the parlor where Harry lit a fire. It was warm and very peaceful; they sat on the sofa, Ginny with her head in his lap. Soon she dozed off, but when Harry leaned down and softly kissed her lips, she opened her eyes.

“I guess I need a nap. You don’t mind, do you?”

They walked upstairs, and Ginny went into her room; Harry continued up to the attic, and tried to read some of Ron’s Quidditch magazines and the _Portable Spellery_ that he had brought from Hogsmeade. But he couldn’t concentrate. Ginny was in her bed, two floors below, and he could not keep images of her out of his mind. He got off his cot and walked to the window at the far end of the room. The snowy scene was like a picture postcard: the woods were cloaked in white and in the distance he could see the bell tower of the village church. He raised his arms over his head and stretched; when he closed his eyes, in place of the white landscape was Ginny’s figure. He gave a soft whimper.

The door behind him opened. He turned, and there she stood. “I’m bad,” Ginny said.

They moved towards each other like the two halves of a magnet. In the middle of the room they fused and fell onto Harry’s cot, ripping off each other’s clothes in the process. They stayed there the rest of the afternoon, and Ginny missed her nap.

Molly went back to St. Mungo’s the next day, but this time Ginny did manage to get an afternoon nap—after spending all morning in Harry’s cot.  On Friday, New Years Eve, Molly stayed home, and Ginny and Harry went for another walk in the morning and slept all afternoon—in separate rooms.

Then it was time to head up to London for an evening of partying. Harry put on his best clothes, and Ginny wore her party dress—ignoring her mum’s disapproving looks—with her new earrings and her veela necklace. They donned warm cloaks and Disapparated to the back room of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes.

Ron and Hermione were ready and waiting; Hermione had on a raspberry sheath—almost the color of her Triwizard ball gown—with a slit that went halfway up her thigh, and a peridot pendant around her neck, Ron’s Christmas present. They set off down Diagon Alley and out the front door of the Leaky Cauldron; they would be coming back for the midnight celebration, but first they wanted to do the town.

They took a taxi to the Italian restaurant where they had eaten before they saw the play at The Globe Theater, and afterwards hit a succession of raucous night spots with flashing strobes, loud crowds, and louder music. Ginny and Hermione both attracted a lot of attention at each stop, and one or two drunks tried to hit on them. Harry just pushed away the ones that approached Ginny, but Hermione had to restrain Ron more than once from pulling his wand.

A half hour before midnight they returned to the Leaky Cauldron; it was so crowded and noisy that at first no one noticed them. Ron had asked Tom to hold a booth or a table, and they sat in relative obscurity for a few minutes until they noticed Dean, Parvati, Neville, Keesha, Seamus, and Lavender across the room. Their shouts of greeting attracted attention, and soon everyone in the tavern knew that Harry Potter was there.

They pulled two tables together and his friends formed a protective circle around Harry. Finally all the tipsy witches and wizards grew tired of being elbowed back by Ron and the others, and they were left alone. It was like a six-month reunion of the Gryffindor class of 1998, and everyone had heard that Harry was now an Auror-in-training.

“Wait till you hear who Harry’s mentor is,” Ron said to Seamus.

“Saliyah Ushujaa,” Harry told them all.

“No way!” Seamus said. “Are you sure?”

“That’s who.”

“It is amazing,” said Ron. “She’s grooming you, mate, that’s what she’s doing.”

“We’ve been waiting for you, Harry,” Seamus said. “Everyone’s pumped. It’s like Dumbledore’s Army all over again.”

Harry shook his head. “But I’m months behind all of you. Give me a chance to catch up.”

“A year from now it won’t matter,” Hermione said. “And five years from now no one will remember.”

Ron picked up a mug of mead and grinned at Hermione. “Here’s to the long view.” They all laughed, and the topic turned to other matters, especially Harry and Ginny’s engagement. Everyone was also excited about Ginny’s invitation to the Harpies’ tryout in the spring; they had all been to the Quidditch match against Slytherin, and they all agreed that Gryffindor would easily win the Cup again; Keesha took exception, but her objections were shouted down.

A minute before midnight Tom brought out a huge magical hourglass that had been emptying for a year. As the moment approached, numbers flashed in the top half of the glass, counting down the seconds. There was a loud bang, and a bright orange “1999" shot out the top of the hourglass. The tavern erupted in cheers. At the two tables, everyone hugged and kissed.

As those around them stood and raised their glasses and began singing “Auld Lang Syne,” Harry turned to Ginny and took both of her hands. They looked at each other, and the crowd, the song, even their friends faded away. Harry felt engulfed in happiness; the year that had begun in separation, fear, and the certainty of death, had ended surrounded by celebrating friends, with nothing before him but joy and life. He saw his own tear-filled eyes blinking back at him, and he knew that Ginny was seeing hers through his eyes. His heart filled with her soul as he took his beloved into his arms. They began the new year with a kiss that eventually everyone in the tavern was watching.


	35. Bailey's Brood

“Harry,” Ron said in a low voice. Harry and Ginny looked around and abruptly sat down, their faces red. The noise level in the room gradually rose as people went back to their own celebrations.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled to Ginny, “I didn’t mean to make it a spectacle. For a minute there, it felt like we were alone.”

“Yes, it did. Well,” she said breathlessly to everyone at their table, “happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year, Ginny,” Keesha said from Neville’s lap. “It is a brilliant way to start it off, isn’t it?”

The Gryffindors’ party lasted another hour before breaking up. When the four got back to the joke shop, they saw a light on inside. George was perched on the counter talking to Angelina, sitting on an upturned carton; a bottle of champagne and two glasses were on the counter next to George. They both smiled when the four walked in.

“You should have joined us at the Leakey Cauldron,” Ron said. “It was a great party, with entertainment supplied by Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter.”

George looked at them quizzically, but when he saw Ginny’s red face he nodded. “Those two are always entertaining.”

“We just wanted a quiet little celebration by ourselves,” Angelina said. “I’m glad you had a good time.”

They talked for a few minutes and went upstairs. “It’s nice that George was with her,” Ginny said as they sat around the kitchen table. “I was worried about him.” No one said anything for a few minutes, then Ron got up.

“I guess it’s time for bed. What do you two want to do? There’s an extra bed, but the room is kind of small, and George stores things in it.”

Harry looked at Ginny and she nodded. “I’ll send an owl to Mum first thing in the morning.”

Harry moved the cartons stacked on the bed and Hermione made it up. There was barely enough room for two people to move in the cramped room, and it was cold, but they had plenty of blankets and held each other closely underneath. “I wanted to be with you tonight,” Ginny whispered. The first night of the new year was sweet.

In the morning, Ginny sent Pigwidgeon off with an apologetic note to her mother. “I’ll probably get a lecture, or at least a look,” she said over a breakfast of eggs and toast. She glanced at Harry, who had been quiet since they got up. “What is it, love?”

Harry put down his mug of coffee. “There’s something I want to do that I should have done already, and when my classes start I won’t have time. Let’s go visit Andromeda. I should be looking in on Teddy once in a while.”

“Oh, that would be wonderful!” Ginny beamed. “He’s almost a year old, isn’t he?”

“I think so.” Harry was quiet again. “I feel bad, not going to see him. I’ve been so wrapped up in everything, but something about seeing George last night made me think of him.”

“I know what you mean,” Ron said. “Sometimes he gets a look like he’s completely alone in the world.”

“That’s what Fleur said.” Harry pushed his empty plate away and looked at Ginny. “Well, should we get it over with and face the music?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ron grinned. “Mum’s very understanding about things like that. I’m sure she won’t hex you too badly.”

Ginny grimaced. “I wonder what I’ll be like if I have a daughter.” She looked at Harry and arched her eyebrows. “I wonder what _you’ll_ be like.”

“I’ll be locking her in her room until she’s married. I know what boys want.”

“Oho! And I thought Ron was a hypocrite. You seduce the mother but your daughter has to be chaste.”

“Seduce? I don’t remember it happening quite that way.”

“Don’t you two need to be leaving?” Ron said. “The longer you stay here, the madder Mum will be.”

Ten minutes later they were back at the Burrow, and Molly pulled Ginny into the parlor and closed the door; Harry stayed in the kitchen but there were no raised voices. Still, he was thankful not to be facing either one of Ginny’s parents; Arthur had gone out to his shed to look for a Muggle contraption which he had heard might be the source of an infection of some kind. When Ginny came back she shrugged.

“It wasn’t bad, she just said I should have told her last night where I was.”

Harry wanted to send an owl to Andromeda Tonks, asking if she would like a visit from them, but McPherson and Bailey were both at the owlery in Hogwarts. Ginny was reluctant to use Errol because the Weasleys’ ancient bird didn’t like cold weather. They thought about using Harry’s Patronus, but decided that might be too alarming; Andromeda might think that something bad had happened. At that moment Kreacher, wearing his cap, shuffled into the kitchen; he had been straightening up around the house.

“Kreacher,” Harry said, “do house-elves deliver messages?”

Kreacher bowed, but was frowning when he straightened. “Only under duress, Master Harry. However, Kreacher will be happy to fetch Harry Potter’s owl from Hogwarts, if that is his wish.”

Harry and Ginny looked at each other in surprise. “You can do that?” said Harry.

“Of course. Harry Potter should know that Kreacher can find and bring.”

“That would be great. Can you get McPherson for us?”

Kreacher bowed again and was gone with a loud crack. Ginny and Harry sat looking at each other for a few minutes, until, with a louder crack, a very indignant owl and a house-elf sucking his fingers appeared on the floor before them. McPherson let out a series of squawks and flew up onto the back of a chair. He looked huffily at Harry, turned his back, and waggled his tail feathers.

“Are you all right?” Harry got up and looked at Kreacher’s fingers; they weren’t bleeding, but there were marks on them, obviously from McPherson’s beak. “I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have asked you if I thought he would bite.”

“Kreacher was not attacked by Harry Potter’s bird.” The elf looked at Ginny balefully. “It was Ginny Weasley’s. There were six eggs, and—”

“Eggs?!” Ginny shrieked. “Six?” She grinned at Harry. “Bailey’s on the nest!” She burst out laughing.

Harry grinned back. “We’ll be grandparents.”

Ginny’s shriek brought Molly from the parlor, and Ginny told her what they had just learned. “When they get big enough, you can retire Errol,” Ginny said, wiping tears of laughter from her face.

Harry got a piece of parchment, quill, and ink from a drawer, and wrote out a note to Andromeda. “You go back to school on Wednesday?” he asked Ginny. “So is it okay if I tell her we’d like to come any time before then?”

Ginny agreed, and McPherson flew off with the parchment in his beak, apparently mollified by being given a job to do. Soon after, Arthur came back inside.

“I have three pomcuters out there,” he said as he washed his hands at the sink, “and I want everyone to stay away from them. According to the Muggle newspapers, they may have something called a millennium bug. It could be contagious. Has anyone at the hospital mentioned it?” he asked Molly.

“No, but I can ask Hestia when I see her next week.”

“They’re computers, Dad,” Ginny said, “not pomcuters.”

“Isn’t that what I said? It doesn’t matter. I don’t want to take any chances.”

“Hermione knows all about them, her parents have one. I can ask her.”

Arthur nodded. “Please do. I don’t want to keep them around if they pose any danger.”

Molly and Arthur went for a walk, and Harry and Ginny went into the parlor. McPherson returned after an hour with Andromeda’s invitation, asking them to come tomorrow afternoon; Teddy finished his nap around three o’clock, and they could all have dinner. She also included a photograph of Teddy from Christmas day. The infant was on his feet, holding onto a chair, smiling cherubically at the camera. He had a red ball in his hand that he flung into the air; it bounced out of the photo and, as Teddy laughed, his hair turned from blond to green.

“He looks like Remus and acts like Tonks.” Ginny sighed and wiped her eyes. “Oh, brother, now I’m getting teary about _them_.”

“I should bring a gift, don’t you think?” Harry said. “What can I get for him before tomorrow?”

“If you don’t mind giving him something old, there’s three or four boxes of toys up in the ghoul’s attic.”

They went upstairs and, careful not to disturb the ghoul, which they could see sleeping in a far corner, retrieved a large carton labeled, “Toys - Fred and George.” They opened it on the landing and rummaged through it.

“How about this?” Harry held up a large, brown teddy bear; it looked to be larger even than Teddy, and “Fred” was sewn into the fuzzy fabric on its chest. There was another, identical one in the box with “George” sewn on.

Ginny gazed at it for a moment. “Let’s ask Mum first. I think she’ll like the idea, and I can change the stitching.”

They left the bear in the parlor next to the photo, and went out for a walk down to the river. When they returned, Molly and the elves were making lunch, and the bear was sitting in a chair at the table.

“I see you got Fred’s bear out,” she said as she dried her hands with a towel. “Did you want to give it to little Teddy?”

“Yes, if you don’t mind, Mum.”

“I think it’s a wonderful idea. Those toys are just sitting up there getting dusty. Why don’t I sew Teddy’s name on it?”

“That’s okay, I’d like to do it.” Ginny took the bear and hugged it; she smiled at Harry and they went back into the parlor. Ginny retrieved a sewing kit that her mother kept in a corner, and quickly replaced “Fred” with “Teddy” on the bear’s chest.

“I like this,” said Harry, holding the bear up. “I like giving something of Fred’s to Teddy. It seems right.”

“It does,” Ginny said softly.

They Disapparated to Andromeda Tonks’ house after lunch the next day. Harry had only a fuzzy memory of what it looked like inside; he had been there at a time of frantic flight from Privet Drive, he had just lost Hedwig, and Hagrid had nearly died. Whatever scars the house had borne from that incident were gone, and to Harry it seemed as comfortable and homey as the Burrow, if a little more vertical.

Andromeda greeted them at the front door, and put her finger to her lips as she let them in. “He’s still napping,” she whispered. Harry handed her the teddy bear, wrapped in light blue paper with smiling witches and wizards cavorting on it. Andromeda beamed. “You shouldn’t have. But you can give it to him yourself when he wakes up.”

She led them into her parlor. It was smaller than the Burrow’s, but there was a large fireplace with a fire burning. Harry went to the mantel and looked at the photos on it: Ted, Nymphadora as a child, and a wedding picture of Tonks and Remus. Harry picked up the wedding picture and saw a radiant Tonks and a Remus whose eyes seemed too haunted for a bridegroom. He glanced at Ginny who was peering at the photo over his shoulder. He had told her all about Lupin’s visit to twelve Grimmauld Place when he, Ron, and Hermione were hiding there, and now Ginny was feeling the same pity and sadness as Harry for that tormented man.

He replaced the photo and they sat on the couch; Andromeda brought tea and scones. Harry took a sip and put his cup down. “I’m sorry I haven’t come around sooner. I—”

“Oh, Harry,” Andromeda stopped him, “don’t apologize. You’ve had so much going on, you and Ginny both; I heard about your engagement. Teddy has been fine. Ted’s family visit all the time, and we get out quite a bit now. We were in Diagon Alley just last weekend to see the Christmas decorations. That’s where I had the picture taken that I sent to you.”

At that moment a babbling noise came from the next room. “He’s up,” Andromeda smiled. “Come, I’ll show you his room.”

They went down a short hallway and into a small room with a large window, a crib, and a dresser; the walls were bright yellow with pictures of magical creatures drawn on them. Teddy was in the crib holding onto the rail, jumping up and down and letting out a string of nonsense sounds. He stopped when he saw them, and stared at Harry.  As they watched, the baby’s hair turned from blond to bronze to red and, finally, to orange. He pointed his finger at Harry and said very loudly, “Da!”

Ginny giggled and Harry looked at her wide-eyed. “What did he say?”

“He called you Daddy.”

Andromeda laughed. “He calls every man that. Here,” she picked him up, “let’s check your nappy.”

Teddy continued to stare at Harry as his grandmother changed him on top of the dresser. When she was done, she turned to Harry. “Do you want to hold him?”

“Uh, sure, I guess so.” He carefully took Teddy from Andromeda and held him awkwardly with his arms extended.

“Hold him on your hip, like so, with your arm around his back, like this.” Andromeda adjusted both the baby and Harry, and Harry smiled; Teddy continued to stare at him. Harry noticed that his eyes were grey, but they suddenly turned green.

“Does he change a lot?” Harry ran his finger over the baby’s arm, and Teddy took it in his fist and put it in his mouth; Harry giggled, and glanced at Ginny.

“Sometimes,” said Andromeda. “It depends on how distracted he is. ‘Dora used to be the same; she only changed when she was engrossed in something, otherwise she stayed pretty much steady.”

“It feels funny.” Harry continued to smile at Ginny as Teddy continued to stare with Harry’s finger in his mouth.

Ginny moved next to Harry and tickled the baby. He smiled a toothless grin, grabbed Ginny’s finger and shrieked loudly as his hair turned red.

Harry looked at him in alarm. “Is he all right?”

Andromeda laughed. “Yes, he does that when he’s happy. Let’s go into the parlor, you can give him your present.”

Back in the parlor, Harry set Teddy on the rug and put the present down in front of him. “You have to unwrap it for him,” Ginny said. “He doesn’t know how yet.”

“Oh.” Harry pulled the paper off, and set the bear down again. Teddy looked at it for a moment, reached and touched it. He looked at Harry, who looked at Ginny. “Now what?” Ginny knelt on the floor and picked up the bear; she hugged it and held it out to Teddy. He grabbed it, and toppled on top of it with another shriek, then rolled over so that the bear was on top.

“It’s beautiful!” Andromeda exclaimed as Teddy began to explore the bear. “Thank you so much.”

“It was my brother Fred’s. I hope you don’t mind,” said Ginny.

‘Oh, that’s beautiful too. No, I don’t mind at all. And Teddy doesn’t seem to, either.”

Harry sat on the couch with Andromeda, while Ginny stayed on the floor playing with Teddy and the bear. Andromeda went into the kitchen, and a short while later they ate dinner; Teddy sat in a highchair with a bottle of milk and a bowl of pudding, babbling away as he distributed the pudding evenly over his face with his fingers, occasionally putting some in his mouth. When they were done, Andromeda cleaned him up, and they sat in the parlor talking.

After an hour they went to the field in back to visit the two graves. Andromeda brought two fresh sprays of flowers and leaned them against the headstones. Harry stood for several minutes, gazing down at them. He took Ginny’s hand, feeling tears burning his eyes, and looked away. They walked back to the house, and Harry promised to visit again soon. After goodbyes they returned to the Burrow.

The next two days passed quickly, and on Wednesday the Ministry car arrived to take them to King’s Cross Station. The driver was a young witch who chatted as she drove, telling them about her hols in Portugal with her boyfriend. No one accompanied them, as Arthur and Molly had earlier gone into work. The platform was bustling with families saying farewell and students saying hello. Emma and Claire came running up and hauled them into the carriage where they had already taken over a compartment. Soon Keesha, Neville, and Luna arrived, and the train departed.

“How was your holiday?” Ginny, Keesha, and Luna all said at the same time, and everyone in the compartment laughed.

“I went to the Canary Islands with my dad,” Luna said. “There was a Snidget sighting there a week before Christmas, the first one outside Modesty Rabnott in almost forty years!” She looked excitedly around the compartment at six blank faces.

“Gosh, Luna,” Keesha said, “that . . . that’s brilliant. What’s Modesty Rabnott?”

Luna looked from Keesha to Neville to Harry to Ginny, and finally at Emma and Claire sitting next to her. “Surely you must know,” she said to the twins. They both shook their heads, and Luna slumped back in her seat; she turned her head and stared out into the corridor.

“Modesty Rabnott was a witch who tried to save Golden Snidgets,” Harry said to Emma and Claire. “That’s a magical bird that was used in Quidditch until the Golden Snitch was invented. They’re almost extinct now, but there’s a reserve for them in Somerset named after her.”

“Well, that is brilliant,” said Keesha. “I never knew that. Luna, did you see one?”

Luna turned back. “Sadly, no. And we didn’t see any canaries, either. Dad thought it was a plot devised by the Muggle government to draw tourists.”

Keesha glanced at Harry and Ginny. “But why would a Muggle government want to attract witches and wizards?” she asked Luna before Ginny could stop her.

Luna shrugged. “Maybe they thought one of us would bring a Snidget or a canary.”

Keesha smiled at Luna’s unblinking eyes. “Yes, that’s probably it. I’m sure that’s it.”

No one else had as adventurous a tale to tell, but they exchanged Christmas stories nevertheless while the train sped on, and shortly after dark they pulled into Hogsmeade Station.

Harry and Ginny stayed on the train for a goodbye snog, since Harry wanted to get back to the inn. Ginny eventually joined the others on the platform, but ran after Harry for another snog before he had gone ten yards. She watched as he walked up the High Street, and by then Luna, Neville, Keesha, the twins, and several other students were also watching, hoping for more snogs. Ginny finally turned away and walked with the others to the last horseless carriage waiting in the lane; Hagrid was there, too.

“Le’s go, le’s go!” he called, beaming at them. “Yeh don’ wanna miss this feast. Yer new teacher’s waitin’ to meet yeh.” He waved them into the carriage, slapped the Thestral’s rump, and they started off.

“What did Hagrid hit?” asked Emma. “I heard his hand hit something.”

“It’s a Thestral,” said Ginny, “and you can’t see it because you haven’t seen anyone die. They’re beautiful creatures, you should go find a picture in the library. You’ll study them in your fifth year.” The twins sat back, staring at the empty traces.

“What’s with Hagrid?” Keesha said. “He seemed pretty jovial.”

“Maybe he got something for Christmas,” Emma giggled.

They were the last people to enter the Great Hall, and Ginny followed the twins to the Gryffindor table. As she approached it, she noticed that everyone was looking at the staff table. The twins had stopped dead in their tracks and were staring in that direction with open mouths. Ginny looked. Sitting in the end seat, smiling out at the Hall and towering over it, was Madame Maxime, the Headmistress of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic.

“Who is she?” Claire asked. “Is she related to Hagrid?”

“Not yet,” Ginny chuckled. She saw Hagrid sitting on the other side of the Headmistress, a very large smile on his face; he alternated looking down at his plate and casting glances in the direction of Madame Maxime.

Ginny looked more closely at her. She was elegantly dressed, as she usually had been during the Triwizard Tournament. Her robes were a deep blue, almost the color that Professor Dumbledore’s had been, but instead of stars and planets they were decorated with pale green fleurs-de-lis. She wore several large rings on her fingers and a necklace of what looked like emeralds.

Ginny sat between Dennis and Demelza. “That’s quite a surprise, don’t you think?” Dennis said.

“Maybe not,” Demelza answered. “They probably couldn’t find anyone in Britain to take the job because of Riddle’s curse.”

“She’s supposed to be very powerful,” said Dennis. “Maybe she can break it.”

“I don’t believe in a curse,” Ginny declared. “Everyone thinks it’s cursed, so they expect something bad to happen, and so it does. Then no one wants the job, so we get idiots like Lockhart and Pester. And Riddle tried to use it to infiltrate Hogwarts. Dumbledore should have been more careful, that’s all.”

“I think it’s cursed.” Ginny looked up at Romilda Vane who was sitting a few seats down and across the table. Romilda tossed her long, dark hair, but didn’t look at Ginny. Ginny was about to retort, when the people around her turned to the front of the room. Professor McGonagall was on her feet, waiting for silence.

“Before the meal begins,” she said, “I want to introduce someone who many of you already know, Madame Olympe Maxime, who will be finishing up the school year as our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. She has taken a leave of absence from the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic in France, and has graciously accepted our offer of a position here at Hogwarts. Madame Maxime,” McGonagall turned to her, “welcome once again to Hogwarts!”

Maxime stood—which had a disruptive effect on the staff table place settings—and smiled. A few seats down the table Hagrid began clapping loudly, and soon everyone joined him. Maxime nodded to Hagrid and sat down; the dishes and silver on the table rattled once again.

The meal began and Romilda kept up a stream of comments about the Defense Against the Dark Arts curse, but Ginny decided to ignore her. She had managed to avoid Romilda all year, and what did it matter, anyway? Demelza asked her about Quidditch practice, and soon she was conversing with her and Dennis about that. When the meal ended she went back to her room and found McPherson waiting with a note from Harry.

 

 

 

> _Ginny,_
> 
> _I miss you so much, already. It was pure heaven for two weeks. If that’s what being married to you is like, then I’m almost afraid of how happy I’ll be._
> 
> _The news is all over the village about Madame Maxime. Hagrid must be pretty happy. How are the students reacting? In a way it’s kind of sad that they had to go outside the country to find someone for the job. Still, I think she’ll be great._
> 
> _I suspect that we’ll only have one owl at a time for messages now. Either Bailey or McPherson will be on the nest._
> 
> _Everything is okay at the inn. Sam Goldberg said that nothing happened during the holiday, but for some reason I have a feeling there will be more trouble. But we’ll see. Whatever happens, I will never never stop loving you._
> 
> _Harry_

Ginny observed McPherson, who was sitting on Bailey’s perch digging into his chest feathers with his beak. The owl looked up, and if Ginny didn’t know that owls couldn’t smile, she would have sworn that McPherson was grinning at her. She would have to visit the owlery tomorrow to see the nest herself.

She began a return message, describing what happened in the Great Hall that evening, and filling up the rest of the parchment with ideas specifically intended to make Harry crazy. She sent it back with McPherson and got into bed to await the reply.

Her roommates came in, and Ginny unwillingly learned that over the holiday Sarah had met a young wizard from Durmstrang who was visiting England for Christmas, and she had spent a lot of time with him. After fifteen minutes of hearing details that she had no desire to know, Ginny was rescued by the return of McPherson, this time bearing a package from Honeydukes as well as a letter. The letter contained a long passage—which Ginny had expected—designed to drive _her_ crazy. She pulled her hangings shut, as much to keep out Sarah’s prattle as to give herself some privacy, and let the warm feeling wash over her that told her Harry was watching her on his map.

After breakfast the next morning, Ginny

went up to the owlery; her first class was not until ten o’clock, and she was anxious to see Bailey’s nest. She spotted her owl on a ledge high above the floor near the beamed ceiling. Bailey and McPherson were both there, and when Bailey flew down to her, McPherson shifted on the ledge and settled on the nest, which Ginny could just make out, sitting back a few inches from the edge. She lifted her arm and Bailey alighted, giving her ear a nibble. Ginny stroked her back.

“It’s too high for me to go up and see, but I’m so happy.” Bailey rubbed her head against Ginny’s cheek, spread her wings, and Ginny tossed her into the air, but instead of flying back up to the nest, she flew out the window. Ginny watched her soar up and out over the lawn. The owl circled for five minutes and headed back to the owlery; Ginny stepped aside as Bailey streaked past and back up to the nest. McPherson moved and Bailey resumed her place; she peered down at Ginny and hooted once.

Ginny turned to go, but heard heavy footsteps, and Hagrid ducked his head as he came through the door. He didn’t notice Ginny, but looked up at the nest. He was carrying a bunch of yellow carnations that he must have got from one of the greenhouses.

“Hagrid!” Ginny called, and the gamekeeper turned.

“Ginny! Did yeh come t’ see yer owl’s nest? Ain’t it grand? There hasn’t been nestin’ owls in here fer at least ten years.”

Ginny walked over and smiled up at him. “We just found out a few days ago. There’s six eggs.” She told him how Kreacher had come to fetch McPherson and discovered the nest. Hagrid smiled at the story, but looked back up at the two birds on the ledge; he seemed worried.

“I’m a little concerned,” he said. “Them babies’ll hatch in about a month, but food’s still scarce out there. The mice and voles won’t be out an’ about in number fer at least another month after that.” He frowned. “I’m kinda surprised she laid this early in the winter. Usually they don’ lay until February or March.”

“Can’t we do anything?” If she had to, Ginny would get Harry to Levitate her up to the nest and feed the owlets herself. “Do you have any, uh, pet mice that we could feed them?”

Hagrid glanced at her and shrugged. “Don’ worry, Ginny, we’ll come up with somethin’. I ain’t about to let six magical Hogwarts barn owl young ‘uns go hungry, even if their mum and dad didn’t have enough sense to wait a month before, you know . . .” He grinned at her and winked.

Ginny couldn’t help laughing, and even felt a little blush on her face. They left the owlery and Ginny went back to her room to get her books for Herbology. She had a little trouble paying attention in class, though; her mind was partly on the problem of feeding Bailey’s brood, and partly wondering about her first Defense Against the Dark Arts class that afternoon. Everyone else was also wondering, and Professor Sprout had to remind them a few times that the subject was Herbology, not Defense Against the Dark Arts.

At lunch, Ginny learned that the first-year Defense Against the Dark Arts class had met that morning, and all the Gryffindor first-years were being questioned by everyone else.

“She’s _so_ much better than Professor Pester,” Emma said.

“Yeah, she never talked about herself once,” declared Claire. “I wish she had been here all year. She had us trying _Protego_. I could never do it before, but this time it almost worked. I only got knocked back a couple of yards.”

Seventh-year, N.E.W.T.-level Defense Against the Dark Arts met immediately after lunch. The class had been moved to a larger room on the fifth floor that had a high ceiling, and the door had been enlarged; the portrait that had hung over it was on the floor, leaning against the wall, and its inhabitants, two witches holding tennis rackets, did not look happy. Ginny got there early, along with everyone else, and sat with Keesha, Luna, and Ruth. A moment later the floor shook and everyone looked around as Madame Maxime walked in.

She was wearing bright yellow robes, and her hair was tied up with a yellow ribbon. Pearl earrings dangled from her ears, and a yellow carnation was in her lapel. Ginny told Keesha in a whisper about the flowers she had seen Hagrid carrying.

The professor stood next to her desk and gave them a warm smile. “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. I am, as you know, your new teacher, and I am very happy to be here. I have been looking forward to ze—the seventh-year N.E.W.T. class. I know how difficult the first semester was for you, but I hope we can make some good progress in the remaining time.” She looked around the room. “Are zere—there any questions?”

She had them pair up, and watched each pairing perform non-verbal spells; after critiquing them, she put each individual against herself, and soon wands were flying around the room, people went floating up to the ceiling, and bodies were going rigid as her Disarming, Levitating, and Binding spells hit. Ginny was unable to parry any of them or penetrate Maxime’s Shield Charm, and when the lesson was over, she was not the only one nursing a bruised ego.

“That was embarrassing, but she is good,” Keesha said as they left the classroom. “That hour was worth ten of Pester’s. We are really gonna learn something this term.”

“I think you’re right,” said Luna. “I don’t think she’s the type to just stand up there and give a lecture like that other one did.”

“It’s quite a load of homework, though,” Ginny pointed out; they had been assigned twenty-four inches on the theory of Shield Charms, due Monday. They were back at school less than a day, and the work was already piling up. Their Transfiguration and Potions projects were due in four weeks, but it looked like their homework loads were not going to lighten up any time soon.

At dinnertime, Ginny discovered that news of Bailey’s clutch had got around; she supposed that Hagrid had told his classes about it, and maybe he was even incorporating the event into his lessons. The twins were the first to try to put dibs on an owl, but Ginny had to tell them she would make no plans yet.

“Don’t count your owlets before they hatch, as the saying goes,” she grinned.

Luna wandered by and warned her to keep an eye out for Antipodean Opaleyes, since their young liked to raid birds’ nests and steal the eggs to play catch with.

“What are those?” Claire asked as Luna drifted away.

“Dragons,” said Ginny; she bit into a treacle tart and wiped the syrup from her chin, then  licked her finger. “But it’s a breed that lives in New Zealand, so I don’t think they pose much of a threat to the owlery.”

“Luna’s loony,” Emma said.

“Yeah, but she’s smarter and braver than I’ll ever be.”

Claire made a face at her sister. “I like her. She was the one who gave us the idea about the griffins for the Quidditch match. We heard her talking about the lion head she used to wear.”

“That was cool,” Ginny agreed. “And you should have heard her announce a match. No one who heard it will ever forget it. My brother Ron still talks about it.” She got up. “See you later.”

She spent the evening studying, first in the library, later in the common room, and went up to her room just before midnight. McPherson was there with a Honeydukes package—delicious chocolate toffees—and a long love letter from Harry. She got into bed and read it. He told her he missed her so much, he had used the Bouquedelle that evening for the first time in a month. He also said he had received his materials from the training program, and had spent most of the day reading them.

Ginny smiled when she read that part. She could sense Harry’s excitement; she wasn’t sure if her feeling came from the letter or if she was actually experiencing Harry’s own feelings, but it made her happy. She had known all along that Harry belonged in the program, and now he was enthusiastically part of it.

Ginny sat back against her pillows and hugged the letter. She looked at her ring—resisting the temptation to kiss it—and took her locket out and opened it; Harry’s eyes seemed to gleam more brightly than ever. Tears came to her eyes; more and more of herself was becoming entwined with Harry’s self, their feelings, even consciousness, merging into one. She had never dreamed that it could be so all-encompassing, so complete.

After a moment she realized she was sobbing into her hands, tears smudging the letter in her lap. The sobs turned to laughter as she brushed the teardrops from the parchment and wiped her face, and then poured her heart into as passionate a love letter as she could write. McPherson took it away, and a few minutes later she knew that Harry was watching her on the map and that his own tears were adding smudges to her letter.

The next two days passed slowly for Ginny in her desire to be with Harry. She held a Quidditch practice on Thursday afternoon which went well except, once again, for Dennis’s inept goal keeping. Afterwards he insisted to Ginny that he just needed to get his timing back, but she told him he would have to work out with Ron on Saturdays as often as Ron could get up to Hogwarts.

The rest of the team was not happy about it. The Chasers—Frances, Meeta, and Demelza— had lost barely a beat in their timing and coordination, and Jimmy Peakes told Ginny that she should reopen the tryouts for Keeper.

“It’s kind of late in the day for that,” she scowled, annoyed that Jimmy couldn’t let her run the team as she saw fit. “If no one wanted the job in the fall when the weather was good, who’s going to want it now when it’s twenty degrees out and the snow keeps blowing up your knickers?”

“Fine,” he grumbled, and stalked away. Ginny shook her head; her mum had told her there would always be a Jimmy Peakes around to make life difficult.

Finally Ancient Runes ended on Friday afternoon, and Ginny raced upstairs to get her satchel, which she had packed the night before. She tore downstairs and waited outside the oak doors, peering down the drive for Harry. As soon as she spotted him she leaped down the steps and ran. He whirled her around when they met until she shrieked with laughter; she wouldn’t let go of him, pressing herself against him and rubbing his chest under his shirt. “I missed you so,” she whispered. “Let’s go!”

Harry grinned and picked up her satchel; he put his arm around her waist and they talked as they continued down the drive and out the gates. They crossed the tracks and had passed the station when they both stopped; the word that Harry was speaking was left hanging in the air.

They looked off to their left; in the distance, through the bare branches of the woods that stretched off behind Hogsmeade, they could just make out the Shrieking Shack. They stared at it for a few minutes, but the flitting shadows they had seen through the trees were no longer there.

“Did you see anything?” Harry spoke in a low voice as he peered through the trees in the falling dusk.

“I don’t know,” Ginny said as quietly. “Something made me look, though.”

“Me too.”

Without a word they both drew their wands and began walking towards the Shack. The trees were not very thick, but the underbrush was, and they had to detour around several low thickets. They stood in front of the Shack and gazed at it.

The porch was caved in at several places; the front door was hanging off a hinge, and all the windows they could see were broken. It was very still; only a small breeze rustled the empty branches of nearby trees and a few straggling weeds in the yard.

They moved closer, and as they stood before the two broken steps that led up to the porch, Ginny pointed to the floor in front of the door. They could clearly see footprints in the dust going into the Shack and coming out. They seemed to be fresh, and even as they watched, the breeze picked up and blew some of the prints away.

“Someone was just here, and they left when they saw us,” said Harry. He looked around; the winter’s light was rapidly fading, and gloom was settling in the forest. “Let’s get out of here. We can come back tomorrow and take a better look.”

He took Ginny’s hand and they retraced their steps back to the lane. They walked to the inn quickly and in silence. In the dining room, before going upstairs, Harry told Sagittaria Slocum what they had seen, and up in the flat he lit a fire and brought the veela candlesticks from the bedroom.

They sat in the love seat, wondering why someone would be watching them from the Shrieking Shack. As they spoke, shadows seemed to grow and reach over the room, but gradually the soft light of the candles drove the shadows back, and Ginny leaned over and put her arms around Harry’s neck.

“Do you know what I’ve been thinking about for the past three days?” she whispered as she nibbled his ear.

Harry closed his eyes and smiled. “Have I told you lately that I love you?”

Ginny continued working his ear with her tongue. “Yes, and you can say it again, but first I want you to show me.”

They went into the bedroom, and Harry spent the rest of the night showing in as many ways as he could, how much he loved her.


	36. Rendezvous at the Shrieking Shack

On Saturday morning Harry and Ginny went back to the Shrieking Shack, but the footprints had been obliterated by dozens of others. “It was Aurors, I bet,” said Ginny from the porch. “They stomped all over everything.”

“Do you remember what the prints looked like?” Harry asked; he was walking back and forth in the yard, peering at the ground.

“No, it was getting dark and I was a little nervous too. That was the only visible clue, and it’s gone.”

Harry grinned. “ _You_ should be an Auror.”

Ginny shook her head. “Quidditch first.”

“Do you think you would ever want to become one?” They started walking back through the woods to Hogsmeade, and Harry gave her an eager look. “You would be good.”

Ginny shrugged. “I never thought of myself as a Dark wizard catcher. I prefer catching Snitches or you.”

They came into the village next to Honeydukes and turned up the High Street. Harry nodded at two wizards passing the other way, members of Tony’s Argentine construction crew. They both tipped their caps and smiled, and one said, “Buenos dias, Señor Potter.”

Harry and Ginny walked a few more paces, but Harry stopped and looked back.

“What is it?” Ginny said, and turned in time to see the men disappear around the corner of Honeydukes, in the same direction she and Harry had just come from.

“Wait here!” Harry tore up the street towards the Hog’s Head. Ginny hesitated and looked uncertainly in both directions, but after a moment dashed down the alley between Gladrags and the old Zonko’s shop, and peered around the back of Zonko’s; she could see the two wizards walking through the woods towards the Shrieking Shack. She watched them for a moment and ran back to the High Street.

Harry was trotting towards her with his hand covering a bulge in his jacket; Ginny guessed it was his Invisibility Cloak. She told him what she had seen and, after waiting for several people to walk past, they ducked into the alley and Harry threw the Cloak over them.

It wasn’t easy to navigate walking side-by-side through the dense underbrush and low-hanging branches, and it took them some time to reach the Shack. There was no one in sight, but fresh footprints were clearly visible once again on the porch. Harry indicated that they should go up the steps, but before they could move they heard footsteps from the Shack, and they moved off to the side, away from the porch steps.

Seconds later one of the men peered out the door; he looked around, listening, and stepped onto the porch. He beckoned to his comrade, waiting just inside the door, muttered something in Spanish, and they quietly crossed the porch and walked off through the woods back to Hogsmeade. Harry and Ginny waited until they could no longer see them, and Harry took off the Cloak.

“What do you think?” Ginny asked. “Were they looking for something, or hiding something?”

“I don’t know, but they’re a strange pair of ducks to be visiting this place.” He put a foot on the first step. “Shall we?”

“Absolutely.”

Harry tucked the Invisibility Cloak back inside a pocket and they both took out their wands. The front  door was hanging open on one hinge, and the vestibule had a coating of dust on the floor and was tracked with many shoe prints. As they went farther into the Shack, the dust became thicker and the cobwebs more numerous; Ginny put her hood up to keep the webs out of her hair. They didn’t light their wands; there was enough gloomy daylight coming through the pane-less windows, and they didn’t want to risk being seen by someone outside.

They went through the rooms on the first floor but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Harry pointed out the spot where Snape had died as he gave up the memories that helped save Harry’s life; there was still a dark stain on the floor, and Ginny gave a little shudder. They poked inside closets and peered behind rotting furniture. They went carefully up the creaking stairs, pausing and holding their breaths each time an old board made a noise. The upstairs was filthier than the ground floor because in some rooms the windows were intact, and no wind could come in to blow away the dust and cobwebs. There were some footprints, but they could make no sense of them.

The spent almost an hour inside, and found nothing. But as they stood in the front hallway about to put the Invisibility Cloak back on, Ginny stopped. She walked over to the staircase, put her hand on the newel post, and jiggled the cap. Harry came over. “What is it?” he asked.

Ginny pointed to the banister railing, which was covered with dust despite being smooth and sloped. She put her finger on the newel post. “There’s no dust on it. No one used the banister so it’s covered with dust, but someone dusted off the newel post.”

Harry twisted and pulled the newel cap, but it didn’t move. He pointed his wand, whispered, ” _Alohomora,”_   and the cap sprang up; it was hinged on one side, with a small metal catch on the other to keep it closed.

“I’m going to light up,” Harry said, and Ginny moved closer to help block the light. He lit his wand and they both peered inside. There was an empty cavity about six inches deep; at the bottom were a few grains of a black, powdery substance. Ginny reached inside and pressed her thumb on the grains and held her hand up near Harry’s wand.

“I know what this is,” she said. “I saw it at the Burrow once, in George and Fred’s room. It’s—”

“Peruvian Darkness Powder,” said Harry, examining her thumb. “But what would something like this be doing here?”

“Dunno.” She wiped her thumb against the newel post, closed the cap, and looked at Harry. “Isn’t Argentina near Peru?”

They put on the Invisibility Cloak, left the Shack, and walked a short distance into the woods where, after looking around to make sure they were alone, they took off the Cloak. Ginny drew a deep breath as if to clear her lungs, and brushed cobwebs from her cloak. “That place needs a house-elf,” she said, and sneezed. “Or an army of them.”

They went back to the inn and the Auror on duty, Sam Goldberg, said that Sagittaria and another Auror who had been called up from the Ministry had searched the Shack, but had found nothing. Harry told him about the two Argentines, and Goldberg gave them a sideways look.

“Those two have been going in there for months,” he said. “You’d think it would be too cold.”

“Oh.” Harry looked at Ginny and she giggled. “But we also found a secret hiding place that had a trace of Peruvian Darkness Powder in it.”

Goldberg’s thick, white eyebrows arched. “I didn’t hear Sagittaria mention that. I’ll tell her when I see her.”

Back up in the flat, Harry sent McPherson off with a letter to Ron, asking if they could get together this weekend. Ron’s answer came back that he and Hermione would be there for dinner.

“So what shall we do this afternoon?” Harry said, handing McPherson an owl treat.

Ginny eyed him from the love seat. “Can I suggest a change of pace? We do have the rest of the weekend for what you have in mind.”

At first Harry’s face fell, but he quickly perked up as he sat down next to her. “If you put it that way, sure. What would you like to do?”

“A different kind of flying. When was the last time we went up together?”

He jumped to his feet. “Capital! I can borrow one of Rosmerta’s brooms.” He pulled Ginny up. “Let’s eat, then we can get your Firebolt and a spare Quaffle. What a great idea!”

They went back to the castle after lunch, Harry carrying an old Comet that Rosmerta kept in a back room; for all he knew it was the same one he had used after his return from the cave with Professor Dumbledore. Ginny retrieved her Firebolt and a beat up Quaffle that she borrowed from Demelza. As they walked down to the pitch, she put her hand in her pocket and grinned at Harry. “If you guess what’s in my pocket I’ll give you a kiss.”

“Um, Chocoballs?” She shook her head. “A ring? No?” Harry frowned in thought. “A Golden Snitch?”

Ginny’s grin widened; she stopped, gave him a sloppy kiss, and took her hand from the pocket. The Snitch’s wings beat slowly in her fist. “It’s the one I caught in the Ravenclaw match, the first time we kissed.”

“How did you get it? I thought they kept all the Snitches and re-used them?”

“Do you remember that detention I had last fall? One of the broom cupboards I cleaned out had a cabinet full of Snitches with tags on them. I found this one; it’s romantic, don’t you think?”

“Very.” Harry took the little sphere; it vibrated slightly, and he grinned at Ginny again. “So you think you can catch it before I do?”

“Any day of the week, Potter. But if you do, you can give me back my kiss.”

The Slytherin team was coming off the pitch as Harry and Ginny walked into the stadium, and although most of the players ignored them, one or two nodded in greeting. They mounted their brooms, kicked off into a clear sky with only a little breeze, and flew straight up until the pitch was a distant tiny green oval. Harry moved close to Ginny and they took each other’s gloved hand and hovered for several minutes pointing to landmarks on the ground far below. They turned around and Harry traced with his finger the lane behind the inn where they had followed Turquoise Southeby. They could not make out the tiny cross path where she had disappeared, and a diffuse, low mist obscured the area around it.

Descending towards the pitch, they tossed the Quaffle back and forth for while, and then took turns attacking and defending a goal. After half an hour, Ginny took the Snitch from her pocket. “Ready?” she called. Harry nodded.

“Count to thirty,” she said and tossed the Snitch into the air. It hovered in front of her for a second and zipped away across the pitch. It started climbing, and they soon lost sight of it. They both counted out loud, and at twenty-five Ginny shot skyward.

“Hey!” Harry shouted, and went after her.

Ginny’s Firebolt easily outdistanced Harry’s clumsy Comet, but by the time he joined her in a circling pattern about a hundred feet up, the Snitch was nowhere in sight. They kept circling, and Harry spotted it a few yards above one of the goals, but the instant he turned into his dive, he felt a jolt that almost knocked him off his broom, and he knew that Ginny was doing the exact same thing. They both pulled up and looked at each other. They were twenty yards apart and Harry flew over to her.

“What were you seeing?” he said. “I thought I saw it, but—”

“I saw it—”

“And I turned to dive—”

“And we were both diving—”

“And we were both diving.”

They slowly circled down and landed. Ginny took out her wand and Summoned the Snitch; when it came she put it back in her pocket and they stared at each other.

“I don’t know who saw it first,” she said.

“Me either. I think only one of us was actually looking at it, but we both saw it at the same time.”

Ginny laughed nervously. “So we can never play Seeker against each other.”

“I guess not,” Harry grinned, “but I get to give you back your kiss, anyway.”

“Uh uh!” Ginny backed away, laughing.

Harry started chasing her around the pitch; she ran shrieking from him, but they stopped suddenly when they saw the Hufflepuff team standing in the tunnel entrance watching. Ginny waved to them and she and Harry walked sedately off the pitch.

They went back to the inn and lazed around the flat until Ron and Hermione showed up shortly before dark. Harry told them what had happened and they all went to the Shrieking Shack. Ron had no explanation for any of it, so they returned to the inn for dinner.

“I’ll bet that powder was hidden there and they took it,” Ron said as they ate.

“But for what?” Harry frowned.

No one had an answer, and after they finished eating Ron and Hermione went home.

The next day Harry and Ginny buttonholed Sagittaria Slocum while she was sitting at the bar and asked her what she thought.

“Nothing,” she said. “There’s no law against visiting the Shrieking Shack. We also noticed that there was no dust on the newel post, but the fact that you found a hidden compartment doesn’t mean that much. That place is full of secret spaces.” She looked at Harry. “If I heard all the stories correctly, you made use of one last year during the battle.”

“But what about the Darkness Powder?”

The Auror shrugged. “It could have been there for years. The newel post didn’t have dust on it because someone put his hand on it, that’s all. And the banister was still dusty because no one used it. It’s that simple.”

Neither Harry nor Ginny agreed, but they could think of no argument to contradict her that wasn’t speculation or opinion, so they spent the rest of the day in the bedroom, doing what they had postponed in order to play Quidditch.

On Tuesday, Harry received an owl from the Office of Magical Transportation informing him that his fireplace was now connected to the Floo Network, and that his list of authorized users was now held in the Ministry’s secure vaults. Harry rushed out to Dervish and Banges, bought a small pot of floo powder, and back in the flat stepped into the fireplace, loudly said, “The Three Broomsticks!” and cast a pinch of powder onto the grate. An instant later he stepped into Rosmerta’s establishment; Harriet Smythe was staring at him in surprise.

“Don’t worry,” Harry grinned. “I’m just trying it out. I got hooked up this morning.” He waved to her, said, “The Hog’s Head Inn!” and cast the powder. But when he stepped out of the green flames, Harriet was still standing there gaping at him.

Harry looked around in confusion. “Where’s the flat? Where am I?”

“You’re still here,” Harriet giggled. “It didn’t work.”

“Why not?”

Harriet just looked at him. Harry stepped back into the fireplace, shouted, “The Hog’s Head Inn!” and threw down another pinch of Floo powder. Once again he emerged into The Three Broomsticks.

This time Rosmerta was standing next to Harriet with her hands on her hips. “Having fun, Harry?” she smirked.

“What the hell is going on?” Harry looked around, exasperated. “Why can I get here, but not get back?”

“Did you give them a list of people who can use your fireplace?”

“Sure, that’s what they told me to do.”

“Is your name on it?”

“Of course—” Harry stared at her. “You mean, I have to put my own bloody name on the effing list? That’s the stupidest bloody thing I ever heard.”

Harriet grinned and Rosmerta laughed. “If you’ll be working at the Ministry of Magic, you’ll have to learn to think like them. I guess you’ll have to walk back. You can borrow a cloak if you want, it’s freezing out.”

Harry sighed. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

“Not a word,” Rosmerta said solemnly.

Harry walked back to the inn, ignoring Stan’s look as he came in wearing Rosmerta’s lavender cloak trimmed with pink roses. He retrieved his own cloak, returned Rosmerta’s, and went to the Post Office to send a Post owl to the Magical Transportation office, requesting that they put the name of Harry James Potter on the list. He waited for the response, and the return message informed him that he would have to submit his request on the proper official form, and it would have to be notarized by a proper official of the Ministry of Magic.

The absurdity of his situation quickly sinking in, Harry asked Mr. Rastlebuck, the old postmaster who was watching him curiously, whether he had the proper form and if he could notarize it. The wizard pulled a sheaf of parchments from a desk, shuffled through them, and handed one to Harry. He filled it out and signed it at the fourteen indicated places. Rastlebuck then took out a huge stamp that must have weighed ten pounds, and smashed it down on the parchment in at least ten different locations. Finally, with a grin at Harry, he rolled it up, tied it with a length of red tape, tied it to the leg of the owl which had been waiting patiently, and tossed the bird out the window. Harry paid him and went back to the inn, hoping that the bureaucracy would do whatever it had to do before Monday when he would be starting the program at the Ministry.

Not being able to play with his new Floo toy, Harry took a stack of training program books and parchments that Percy had sent him, and set them on his table down in the dining room. He spent the rest of the day studying cases written up by Aurors, and legal articles written by Warlocks of the Wizengamot. That evening, after Stan had closed up, he went upstairs feeling tired but pleased with his day despite his disappointment with the Floo Network. It was less than a week until he started, and his anticipation was growing.

Harry had told Professor Flitwick that he would not be continuing the Charms lessons because of the Auror program, but he still wanted to see Ginny during the week, so they decided that Harry would come to dinner on Wednesdays. They met the next day in the entrance hall, half an hour before the meal started, and headed up to the owlery to check out the nest.

“I want to keep track of my grandchildren,” Harry joked as they climbed the stairs.

“They’re still eggs, grampa,” Ginny said, “and besides, it’s too high up for you to see.”

Dusk was falling, and dozens of owls were swooping in and out of the windows as they went out to hunt or came in carrying morsels in their beaks. Harry and Ginny held their lit wands up, and Ginny pointed to the nest high above; they could see two pairs of yellow eyes peering down at them. One pair rose, and a moment later McPherson was perched on Harry’s arm, nibbling his ear.

Harry stroked his owl’s back. “Hey, Pop, how’s the family?”

McPherson clucked, sprang up, and flew out the window. He was soon lost in the gathering gloom, but Harry and Ginny waited until he returned ten minutes later with something dangling by its tail from his beak. He soared up to the high ledge and stepped back out of sight.

“He’s a good provider,” Ginny said as they descended arm-in-arm down to the Great Hall. “Hagrid was worried about the babies having enough food, but maybe they’ll be okay. He did say he would figure something out if food was a problem.”

They entered the Great Hall and Ginny pointed to the Slytherin table where Emma and Claire were seated next to Sean and Zoroaster.

“That’s beautiful,” said Harry. “Have any Slytherins sat at our table yet?”

“Only once. No one’s as pushy as the twins,” Ginny laughed. “By the time they’re done there might not be any Houses at all.”

Several Gryffindors greeted Harry as he sat; one of them was Dennis Creevey.

“I heard you were getting a Floo connection,” he said. “That’ll make it easy to get back and forth from here, I suppose.”

“Um, yeah,” Harry mumbled with his mouth full of meat loaf. “I’ll also be able to Floo into work.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s right. You’re in that Auror training program. I want to join when I leave school.”

Harry wanted to continue that line of conversation rather than talking about his Floo connection, but Ginny spoke first. “When will it be hooked up? Weren’t they supposed to do it this week?”

Harry felt himself getting warm. “Oh, yeah, that’s right. Any day now, I suppose.”

Ginny looked at him and started to speak, but something made her stop; she wasn’t sure what it was, maybe a feeling she was getting from Harry or maybe it was the rising color in his face. He glanced at her, and for some reason it made her laugh. “You’ll be sure to let me know when it’s ready, won’t you? And don’t forget to put my name on your list.”

“Now how could I possibly forget that?” Harry said indignantly. “I’d have to be a dunce to forget your name.”

Dennis piped up again. “I heard that Neville forgot to put his own name on the list when he connected his flat in Lancaster. He Floo’d to The Three Broomsticks but couldn’t get back; he had to Apparate. It took him ten days to get it sorted out. Pretty funny, if you ask me,” he grinned.

‘Yeah, that’s hilarious,” Harry mumbled again. “Ten days, you say?”

“Yeah, that’s what Keesha said.”

Ginny had been watching Harry, and now she put her face down next to her plate and started shoveling mashed potatoes into her mouth, but her shoulders were shaking slightly. Harry scowled at her and went back to his own food. Ginny kept glancing at him but looked quickly away whenever she caught his eye. Finally Harry put his fork down and looked at her.

Ginny looked back, not trying to hide her grin. “What?”

“What are you laughing at? All I did was ask them to hook up my fireplace.”

“And?”

“And . . . well, and nothing.”

“Hey!” Dennis exclaimed. “Did you forget your name too?”

Harry scowled at him and picked up his fork; it was loaded with potatoes. “Why do you think I did that?”

Ginny couldn’t hold it back any longer. She took his arm and started laughing, and soon Harry was grinning back with a red face. Dennis watched with a smile, and soon Ginny’s contagious laughter had a dozen Gryffindors around her looking and smiling.

“Oh, Harry,” she finally managed to gasp, “I’m sorry. Did you get stuck someplace?” She looked at him sympathetically, but burst out laughing again.

“At The Three Broomsticks,” Harry said when she finally got control of herself. “And now I know why Rosmerta knew why I couldn’t get back. Neville.”

Ginny wiped tears from her face. “Oh, dear. Well, at least you didn’t have as far to go as he did. Weren’t you cold, though, walking back?”

“Rosmerta has some very warm and attractive cloaks, so I was fine.”

Ginny nodded, still grinning. “So you walked up the High Street wearing . . .?”

“A stunning lavender ensemble, trimmed with some kind of pinky flowers.” Harry laughed. “Stan was a little surprised.”

“I wish I had seen it.” She leaned over and kissed him. “When will they fix the connection?”

“In ten days, I guess.” Harry glanced at Dennis. “I’ll just Apparate to work or use Ros’s fireplace until it’s done.”

They finished dinner and went up to the common room where Ginny retrieved the books she needed. Harry left her in the library, and when he got outside it was well after sunset and overcast; there were no stars or moon. When the lights from the castle no longer gave him enough illumination, he lit his wand. He passed through the gates and, glancing towards the Shrieking Shack, saw a light.

He quickly doused his wand and peered around; no one else was about. He slipped off the path and moved slowly through the woods. He kept colliding with branches and low shrubs, and had to make detours in the dark. The only thing he could see was the light that seemed to be coming from inside the Shack; there was also a dim glow from the lights of Hogsmeade, but it was no help as he pushed forward. The light in the Shack was moving, as though someone was holding a wand and walking around inside.

It was very slow going, and he slowed down even more as he got closer. When he was about twenty yards away, and the woods were beginning to thin, he stopped, vaguely making out three figures emerging from the Shack. As they stepped onto the porch the light went out. They stood for a moment, and Harry could distinctly hear them speaking Spanish. One spoke loudly; it was the voice of a woman and Harry was certain he had heard it before; she also spoke Spanish, and one of the others, a male, answered in a deferential voice. The woman answered angrily.

Harry moved closer. There was a loud snap as he stepped on a large twig. The three figures looked in his direction and he froze. The woman’s wand flared.

“There!” she screamed, and a red flame shot over his shoulder, missing him by inches.

 _”Expelliarmus!”_ Harry sent a spell towards the shadowy figure, but it went high.

“Potter!” she screamed again. “Kill him!”

Harry ducked down as, with loud bangs, red and white flames shot towards him; a green flame went well over his head.

He heard two loud pops, and the two wizards were gone. The witch swore, turned on the spot, and was also gone.

The woods went eerily silent. Harry stayed crouched low, trying to slow down his breathing and his pounding heart. After a moment he heard shouts from the village and he stood. He waited until the sounds of people crashing through the woods drew near and lit his wand. “Here!” he shouted, and sent up a shower of red sparks. Soon other lit wands were coming towards him, and Sagittaria Slocum, followed by a half-dozen others, emerged from the woods.

“They’re gone,” Harry said. “There were three of them.” He saw Tony standing behind the Auror. “Two of them were from your crew.”

The builder’s face showed shock. Harry turned back to Sagittaria. “I’m pretty sure the third one was Turquoise Southeby.”

Slocum’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know that?”

“Her voice. I’ve heard her talk plenty of times.”

“What were they doing? How well could you see them?

“I couldn’t see much at all, just a wand moving around inside. When they came out, they spoke, but it was all in Spanish.”

“Even the witch?” She turned to the people who had followed her into the woods; they were listening avidly. “Does anyone know if Turquoise Southeby speaks Spanish?”

They looked at each other; several shook their heads.

“I never heard her say a word in anything but English,” Tony said.

“What do you think about that?” Sagittaria said to Harry.

“What am I supposed to think? I only know what I heard, and it sounded like her.”

“Okay.” The Auror gazed at the Shack shrouded in darkness. “There’s nothing else we can do here right now.” She raised her wand. “I’m putting a ward on this place. I don’t want anyone to go near it until we check it out in daylight.” She waved everyone back and began casting a spell. Tony grasped Harry’s arm and put his face near Harry’s.

“You’re sure it was my men?” he said in a low voice.

Harry nodded. “They were speaking Spanish, and they were the same size as the ones Ginny and I saw last weekend. I’m sorry, Tony, but I’m positive.”

Tony swore. “Well, it won’t take too long to figure out who. I’m sorry too.” He smiled grimly and started back through the woods.

As Sagittaria finished her spell, the Shack momentarily glowed a dull orange that slowly faded. “That’ll hold it. Everyone go home!” she said loudly to the group still standing nearby. “Nothing else is going to happen.” She turned to Harry. “Let’s go back to the Hog’s Head. I want to talk.”

They walked to the inn, but as they turned off the High Street into the lane, the front door of the inn flew open and Ginny stood there with Keesha and Luna just behind her. They were all holding their wands, and they stood for a moment, apparently uncertain what to do.

“Ginny!” Harry shouted, and ran towards her. She turned with a cry and a look of relief. Before she could move Harry was putting his arms around her, holding her close. “What are you doing here? How did you get out of school?”

“Are you okay?” Ginny ran her hand across his brow, brushing back his shock of hair. “I knew something was wrong. Someone saw spells near the village. We were in the library, and as soon as I heard, I knew it was you. We went to the Hufflepuff common room and Floo’d to the flat. No one in the dining room knew anything, so we decided to go look, and then . . .” She paused and took a breath. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. You’ll get in trouble again. You shouldn’t have come.”

“I don’t’ care. I knew you were in trouble.”

“We’ll all get detention together,” Luna said as she put her wand away, “so it might actually be fun.”

Ginny looked at her askance, but Sagittaria spoke. “I need to talk to Harry, so let’s go inside. You can all listen in.”

The dozen customers in the dining room watched curiously as they entered. Sagittaria pointed to a table in back and spoke briefly to the Auror standing at the bar, then came and sat next to Harry. He told her everything that had happened.

“Southeby!” Ginny put her hand over her mouth. “That whore! Harry, are you sure?”

“It definitely sounded like her. I didn’t see anyone’s face, though.”

The Auror frowned. “You don’t sound quite as certain as you did half an hour ago.”

“I told you,” Harry said, a little irritated, “it was her voice. Why don’t you ask the two blokes who were with her?”

“Because they’re gone,” a voice said. Tony had come into the inn and was standing behind Harry; his foreman Carlos was with him. “They were staying in hired rooms outside the village. The Smythes were putting up one of them, and Harriet said he just came running in, grabbed a lot of his clothes and things, and Disapparated.”

Sagittaria scratched her ear and looked at Carlos. “Can you tell me anything about them?” Tony translated, and Carlos nodded; Sagittaria stood. “Okay, it’s not too late. Let’s go to the Smythes’ and see what we can see. Harry, I’ll come get you tomorrow morning at eight and we’ll check out the Shack.”

She hustled Tony and Carlos out the door, and Harry looked at the three girls. “Thanks for coming. What will you do now?”

Ginny looked at the others. “I guess go back. Do you think if we Floo to our own common rooms McGonagall won’t notice we were gone?”

“Even if she didn’t, a dozen people saw us leave,” said Keesha. “It’s bound to get around.”

“I guess we can’t Obliviate them,” said Luna. There was silence while everyone stared at her.

“Let’s just go back,” Ginny finally said. “I left all my books in the library, so we’ll be in the corridors after hours, anyway.”

They went upstairs and Harry handed each of them a pinch of Floo Powder. Keesha went first, then Luna. Ginny held back and came to Harry. “You didn’t mind, did you?” She rubbed her hands on his chest and looked up at him. “I got a little scared when they told us something was going on in Hogsmeade.”

Harry kissed her. “I am never sorry to see you. Hey, I came twice to rescue you, so you still owe me one.”

Ginny grinned. “That’s right. Well . . .” She played with the collar on his shirt. “Maybe I can pay off my debt this weekend. Will that be okay?”

Harry pulled her closer. “I’ll let you know afterwards how okay it was.”

The ensuing snog lasted until a popping noise came from the fireplace. They looked and saw Keesha’s head. “Good God,” she shouted, “will you two stop it? Ginny, get the hell back here!”

Harry laughed and pushed Ginny towards the fireplace. A moment later she was gone in a swirl of green flames.

Harry went back downstairs to tell Stan everything. When he finished, Stan brow was furrowed.

“What is it?” Harry asked. “Do you know something?”

“‘Arry,” Stan said after a moment, “you used that spell again. You gave yourself away.”

“Expelliarmus?” Harry frowned.

Stan paused while he filled a mug of butterbeer for a wizard who had come to the bar. “Just like when you took a shot at me last year.”

“Yeah, but that’s what I wanted to do, disarm them.”

“I know, but . . .” Stan shrugged and started cleaning glasses. “I guess it doesn’t mean anything. I’m just mentioning it.”

“No, I’m glad you did.”

Harry thought about it until they closed up an hour later, but he didn’t think it had mattered. Turquoise would have recognized his voice, no matter what spell he had cast, so he dismissed it from his mind, and went back upstairs. He sent McPherson off to Ginny with a package of peanut butter crèmes, and sat on the love seat with the Marauder’s Map, awaiting Ginny’s reply. She was in her room, and soon the owl was back with her letter.

 

 

 

 

> _Well, love, it’s been an interesting night. We got back to the library where Professor McGonagall was waiting for us. She took us up to her office and we got a very stern lecture about the importance of obeying the rules, etc., etc. We all got detention, and I got two because this was the second time I left the castle (or was it the third, I’ve lost track). But we’re having it with Professor Maxime, not Filch, so maybe Luna was right and it will be “fun.” At least I don’t think I’ll be cleaning broom cupboards again._
> 
> _The other interesting thing was that McGonagall questioned us pretty closely about what happened in Hogsmeade. I think she’s worried. Remember that she brought Pester here because of what happened to the inn, and now this. I’m afraid that she’s going to seal up the school. If that happens, I don’t know what I’ll do. I couldn’t stand to be away from you._
> 
> _I can tell that you are looking at me on the map. I love that feeling. Please keep doing it. I love you._
> 
> _Ginny_

Harry took the map into the bedroom. He got into bed, kissed Ginny’s dot, and watched it until he fell asleep.

The next morning Harry ate an early breakfast; Stan was not there yet, so he ate in the kitchen with the elves. They were quiet, but did not seem overly worried about anything. Sagittaria arrived with a young Auror who Harry didn’t know; she introduced him as Jordan Crown.

“I remember you, Potter,” he said as they walked to the Shrieking Shack. “I was a seventh-year Hufflepuff when you were a first-year. You made quite a stir then, and ever since.” He smiled.

“How long have you been an Auror?” Harry asked.

“Two years. I understand you’re starting the new training program next week. Jolly good show, I must say. We’re all highly looking forward to your working with us.”

“Me too, I think,” Harry grinned. “I have a lot to learn, though.”

“Just do what you’ve been doing for all these years and you’ll be tops.”

They approached the Shack and the two Aurors drew their wands. The building glowed the dull orange of the night before and shuddered slightly. A few shingles fell from the roof and the three jumped back.

“Damn!” Sagittaria swore. “The spell was too strong. Well, at least we can be sure no one broke it.” They went inside, and the first thing they did was open the newel post; it was still empty. They searched the rest of the house, even opening the entrance to the tunnel that led back to the Whomping Willow, but found nothing.

“They _must_ have been here for a purpose,” Sagittaria muttered as they went back outside.

“Perhaps they just needed a secluded place to meet,” suggested Crown. “Normally no one comes near here, correct?”

“Maybe. What do you think, Harry?” She smiled, and Harry realized she was giving him a test. He thought for a moment.

“I would say that they were up to something more than a little chat. The two blokes were here on Friday, and now they’re back five days later but with another person, someone we know has been causing trouble. And this place isn’t all that isolated; you can see it from the lane, especially in the winter, and I would think that you can see it from some of the buildings along this side of the High Street. So if you wanted to meet someplace where no one would see you, this might not be the best choice.”

Slocum smiled again. “Good. I agree. Now I have another question. How did the witch know it was you? You said she called your name.”

“She heard me. Turquoise Southeby knows my voice as well as I know hers.”

She glanced at Crown and he frowned slightly. “Harry, your Disarming spell is starting to gain a reputation. I do believe that it’s been mentioned to you before, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s mentioned to you during your training. It’s our consensus that Miss Southeby, if that’s who it was, recognized you because you used the spell.”

“You weren’t there,” Harry said. “If I could hear her voice, then she could hear mine. And how could she know anything about my spells? I Disarmed Stan Shunpike a year and a half ago, a couple of hundred miles away.”

“You also used it against Lord Voldemort, not too far from here. I only mention it. It’s something you might want to consider, that’s all.”

“Harry,” Sagittaria said before he could retort, “I agree with Jordan. Just consider it.”

Harry nodded. “Sorry,” he said to Crown, “I didn’t mean to snap at you. Like I said, I have a lot to learn.”

“You’ll never stop learning,” Sagittaria smiled. “I know I don’t.”

They left the Shack, and Crown went to the Post Office to Floo back to the Ministry while Harry and Sagittaria returned to the inn.

Harry went up to the flat to be by himself and think. He had been put off by Jordan Crown’s questions, but he knew that he needed to start listening to people like him and Sagittaria. They were trying to help him, and Harry had spoken some strong words in response. He had to stop that; these were people he was going to be working with, whom he might be depending upon to protect his back someday.

He was coming to feel a special liking for Sagittaria; she was personable and had a no-nonsense attitude and direct approach to the problem at hand. He wondered if she had a family, and how she had coped during the Death Eater regime. Maybe he could invite her to join him and Ginny for dinner sometime.

On Friday morning he received an owl from Jackson Bearcross telling him that his name had been added to his security list, and that he, Mr. Bearcross, had been happy to help expedite Harry’s request. Harry jumped up, grabbed a pinch of Floo powder, and in a moment was once again in the main room of The Three Broomsticks. This time both Harriet and Rosmerta happened to be there. Harry grinned, blew them each a kiss, and stepped back into the fireplace . . . only to find himself, once again, still in The Three Broomsticks.

“What the bloody fucking hell is going on?” he roared, stomping around the tables in front of the fireplace. “Damnation!” He glared at the two women who were doubled over laughing, strode to the back of the bar, snatched the lavender cloak from its hook, and stormed out. Back in his flat he re-read the parchment he had just received from Bearcross, but balled it up in his fist and groaned. The name that had been added was “Harry Janes Potter.”

After a brief exchange of owls and a string of apologies from an embarrassed Bearcross, Harry once again Floo’d to The Three Broomsticks and, finally, made the return trip back to his flat. He stepped out of his fireplace and grinned at McPherson. “Victory!” he proclaimed, and the owl hooted loudly and flapped his wings. Harry dashed off a note to Ginny, telling her that the fireplace was up and running, and he wanted her to be the first, aside from himself, to officially use it, ignoring the fact that she, Luna, and Keesha had come through it a few days ago. She replied that she would Floo from the Gryffindor common room at five o’clock.

Harry watched her on the map all afternoon and prepared his welcome. When he saw her walking across the common room to the fireplace, he moved into position.

The fire flamed green, and when Ginny stepped onto the hearth she shrieked and dropped her satchel.

Harry stood in front of her holding a huge bouquet of roses. Behind him stood Stan, Kreacher, and Winky, all wearing party hats—Kreacher’s on top of his cap—and waving noisemakers. Confetti streamed from the ceiling, tiny fireworks exploded in the air, and McPherson was flying around the room trailing a banner that read, “Welcome to The Hog’s Head Inn Ginny Weasley!”

She stood for a moment, watching with delight the fireworks and McPherson. Finally Harry stepped forward, the fireworks fizzled, and McPherson returned to his perch. Harry cleared his throat.

“We, the staff of the Hog’s Head Inn, welcome Ginny Weasley as the first person to officially Floo into the Inn, except for me, her, and a couple of others, and I had to try it three times before it worked.” He handed her the bouquet as Stan, Kreacher, and Winky cheered and lustily worked their noisemakers.

Ginny curtseyed; she held the bouquet in one hand and extended her other in a welcoming gesture.

“On behalf of myself, I thank you all most heart-feltedly. I will cherish the memory of this moment and your remarkable kindness and thoughtfulness in this moment of heartfelt graciousness and kindness and thoughtfulness. Furthermore—”

“Enough graciousness!” Harry kissed her, and the others applauded. Kreacher served them all pumpkin juice, and they toasted Harry’s fireplace. Stan and the elves left, and Harry and Ginny stood grinning at each other. “Who was minding the store?” Ginny said.

“Harriet.”

After Harry put the bouquet in a vase and set it on the mantel, they went downstairs for their meal and sat for a few hours with Tony and his wife. He told them that the two wizards who had been at the Shrieking Shack had disappeared; Harry guessed that they were now at Turquoise’s house, hidden by the Fidelius charm.

Tony was upset, since he had given the two men jobs when they had shown up in Hogsmeade over a year ago.

“Carlos didn’t know them,” Tony said, “but they seemed like decent chaps. They wanted to travel a little, see the world, and that’s why they came here. Everyone knew they were, you know, close, but no one gave a damn. They worked hard; I liked them.” He sighed. “Carlos said they were afraid of what would happen if people knew about their feelings for each other.”

“So you think they might have been blackmailed?” Harry had his arm on the back of Ginny’s chair; in his other hand he held a butterbeer, and he took a swig. “Someone threatened to expose them unless they delivered Darkness Powder for them?”

“The word is ‘outed,’” said Ginny. ”I did a paper in Muggle Studies last term,” she added when Harry looked at her questioningly. “When a homosexual Muggle is exposed, they call it ‘outing.’”

“I thought that meant you were going on a picnic,” Harry said. ‘I guess not.”

“You may be right about what happened,” Tony continued. “I just can’t understand why they would have become involved with people like that otherwise.”

After Tony and his wife left. Harry and Ginny went up to bed and snuggled under the covers for a while; they fell asleep with their arms and legs tangled up.

The next morning Ginny reported to Madame Maxime’s office; Luna and Keesha were already there, having what seemed to be a pleasant chat with the professor. She was wearing a lime green silk dressing gown and a green turban; she smiled when she saw Ginny.

“Ah, Miss Weasley, good morning. We were just discussing how I would like to decorate my office. Zat—that is what we will be doing this morning. Would you like some tea?”

Ginny saw a teapot and cups on a desk, along with a large plate of biscuits. “Am I in the right place?”

“I’m afraid so,” Maxime laughed; she had a big, booming laugh like Kingsley Shacklebolt’s. “Now, let’s begin.”

She produced lengths of colorful fabrics, paintings of Beauxbatons Castle, still lifes, landscapes of France, photographs of young witches wearing the Beauxbatons uniform, and two long wooden poles. The professor explained the latter.

“These are ancient Muggle jousting pikes, used during their Middle Ages when they fought on horseback. There is a legend that two Muggle lords fell in love with a veela who was attending Beauxbatons and fought for her using these two sticks.”

“And what happened,” asked Keesha as she tried to lift one; it was so heavy that she lost her balance and fell on top of it. They all laughed, and the professor picked up both pikes and affixed them to the wall behind her desk, one crossed over the other.

“They killed each other, of course. And the veela was already engaged to be married. In fact, Ginny, she was an ancestor of your sister-in-law, Fleur Delacour.”

The morning passed quickly; when they were done, Madame Maxime stood at the doorway and gazed around approvingly. “This is very nice. It reminds me a little of my office at home. Now,” she looked at the three girls, “shall we finish with a spot of tea, as I believe the saying is in England?”

“Professor,” Ginny said as they sipped Earl Grey and munched ginger biscuits, “why did you decide to come here? It seems like a long way from home.”

The Professor also took a sip. “Yes, it is. But I felt that I had an obligation to Albus Dumbledore and to this place that he loved so much. Hogwarts suffered bitterly during the war, and if you had not prevailed against the Dark Lord, there is no doubt in my mind that he would have crossed the Channel and tried to conquer us as well. Harry Potter is a hero in my country too, you know.” She smiled at Ginny. “If you should ever visit France, you will see how we honor brave men. And women.” She laughed again, rattling the windows. “You too, Miss Lovegood and Miss Baker. You should all come visit Beauxbatons. Everyone who was at Hogwarts that awful day would be our honored guest.”

When Ginny returned to the inn for lunch Harry was still upstairs. She went to the kitchen and brought up a tray of sandwiches and a pitcher of pumpkin juice. After they ate in the little kitchen Ginny went back to the Hogwarts library and studied for the rest of the day.

On Sunday, they Floo’d to the Wheezes and brunched with Ron and Hermione. Hermione agreed with Harry that the two Argentine workers had been blackmailed by Turquoise Southeby or the Death Eaters, and had delivered Peruvian Darkness Powder to them. Ron, however, was skeptical.

“Why wouldn’t they just go to Tony Trostle or that Carlos chap and report the blighters. They must have known that they were dealing with criminals.”

“Because they were strangers in England and couldn’t speak the language,” said Hermione. “Or maybe the Death Eaters threatened their families. We don’t know anything except that two seemingly innocent wizards are involved in something shady.”

“So what do they want the Darkness Powder for?” asked Harry. “That’s all I care about. If they went to all that trouble to get it, they’re going to use it. But for what?”

“To blot out the light someplace,” said Ron.

Ginny sniggered. “Thanks for that bit of enlightenment, Ron. I can tell you’ve been putting your training to good use.”

“Speaking of which, mate,” Ron said, ignoring Ginny, “I’m pumped about tomorrow. Where are you supposed to go first?”

“To Percy’s office,” said Harry. “Then I’ll join your Evidence Analysis class at ten. In the afternoon I’ll be with Saliyah.”

“Wow!” Ron grinned. “They’re dumping you right into it. E.A.’s a cool subject. Remember when Pester came to the inn after the weasel was thrown through the window? He went around the room with his wand, and some things glowed. He was using charms to see if magic had been used on anything. I can do some of that, but I still have to verbalize.”

Ron went on, describing his courses as well as some of the cases he had already been out on with his mentor. All his cases so far were what the Aurors called “domestics,” squabbles between husbands and wives, or boyfriends and girlfriends, that had ended up in St. Mungo’s with one or the other sporting an alligator’s snout or boils in places that could not be exposed in public. After a while Ginny and Hermione went out to do some shopping in Diagon Alley, Ron brought out a case of butterbeer, and he and Harry kicked back and reminisced about Gryffindor Quidditch matches and magical water balloon fights in the dormitory stairwell.

It was growing dark when the girls returned; Hermione had a new pair of dressy boots, and Ginny a blouse and a book about the current Holyhead Harpies team that she had bought at the little bookshop next to the jewelry store. The book had a section on the team’s most common tactics on offense and defense, complete with moving diagrams. Ron looked it over and decided that tomorrow he would buy the same volume of the Chudley Cannons.

It was almost eight o’clock when Harry and Ginny returned to the flat. Harry started a snog, and they made love on the rug in front of the fireplace. After, Ginny hurriedly dressed, kissed Harry goodbye—he was still lying naked on the rug—and stepped out of the green flames in the Gryffindor fireplace as the school clock was striking nine. She went up to her room and got ready for bed. When McPherson arrived with a package of Chocoballs, she sent a letter back to Harry describing in minute detail every savory sensation she felt while slowly eating one. The magical warmth from the Marauder’s Map washed over her, and she fell asleep, as she often did of late, with a smile on her face.


	37. The Southern Sky

Harry walked into Percy’s office in the Ministry of Magic at exactly nine o’clock on Monday morning. He was both nervous and excited. Ginny had sent a school owl with a heart-shaped note, which he had Spellotaped to the mirror on his dresser. The note was covered with magical lips like the ones she had smothered Ron with on the morning of her birthday, and they made smacking noises when he opened it. Inside she had written:

 

 

> _My wonderful Harry!_
> 
> _I will be thinking about you all day. I can’t wait to hear about all the spectacular things you will be doing. Each one of these lips is a kiss I am giving you. You have made my life so perfect, and what you are doing today makes it even more perfect. I love you so much._
> 
> _Ginny_

Audrey and Percy were both waiting for him. They sat him down at a small table and Harry had to fill out more forms; these, however, were more to the point: details of his experience with spells and charms, both in and out of school. He scratched his head at that one; he had often helped Hermione with their protective spells whenever they set up camp during their months of exile, but he couldn’t remember half of them or how to use them. He also had to describe his duels, what spells he had used, whether he had won or lost, and who his opponent had been. He got a great deal of satisfaction when he got to the last one and wrote, “Expelliarmus. Won. Tom Riddle.”

After completing all the forms, which took about half an hour, he sat down with Percy to go over his schedule.

“You’ll be jumping right into Evidence Analysis this morning,” Percy said as he ran down Harry’s schedule, “and that’s what you’ll do with all of your classes, just plunge in. Don’t worry about being behind; we’ve assigned one of the instructors, Matthew Matthewson, to help you catch up. You’ll like him. He tried to defend Rufus Scrimgeour when Thicknesse took over and he was almost killed by the Death Eaters. Then they threw him into Azkaban and he organized an underground resistance there. The only thing is, we couldn’t find a time slot during the day when you can meet with him, so it will have to be after classes end at five o’clock for an hour or so.”

“That’s okay,” Harry said. “I’ll stay as late as I have to.”

“Good. Now, do you have any questions? Oh, I almost forgot. Kingsley wants to have lunch with you tomorrow. I have to say,” Percy smiled, “he’s rather excited about your being here.”

Harry felt uncomfortable. “I really don’t want special treatment. Do I have to do it?”

“I would say yes,” Percy said a little stiffly. “After all, he is Minister for Magic.”

Harry nodded his reluctant assent; he would prefer to spend his time with his new classmates, not only to get help in catching up, but because it would be a little like Hogwarts again. He was looking forward to the camaraderie and especially spending time with Ron. He glanced at the clock on Percy’s desk. “It’s almost ten. Maybe I should get to my classroom.”

At that moment Ron and Seamus walked in. “Oi, mate!” Ron called as he came over to Percy’s desk. “Time for class. We’re giving you a personal escort. Percy, got all the eyes dotted and the tees crossed?”

Without waiting for an answer, he and Seamus each took an arm, pulled Harry up, and led him to the door. “Good luck!” Percy called.

“Hullo, Harry,” Seamus grinned when they were in the corridor. “This will be brilliant!”

“Down this way,” Ron said, pointing to a side corridor. “They added a new section for the training program. Classrooms, labs, a common room, and a big practice room like the Room of Requirement we had for the D.A. All new equipment and furniture; it’s definitely first class.”

“Who’s the teacher for Evidence Analysis?” Harry asked as they turned a corner through a double doorway with a large sign over it that read: _Department Of Magical Law Enforcement Auror Training Area. Stay Out Unless You Are Really Authorized._ Harry looked around as they passed through, but nothing happened.

“Anna Remington. She’s not an Auror, but she’s worked for the Wizengamot for umpteen years. She’s funny as hell. She’s always setting up weird experiments. Sometimes I think George is working with her. Last month she gave us an enchanted rabbit and we had to figure out what it really was. Every time someone tried a spell that didn’t work, it laid a pellet.”

“And we had quite a cleanup job afterwards,” Seamus chuckled.

“Here we are.” Ron opened a door and they walked into a classroom with a high ceiling and a row of tall windows along one wall. Harry was certain that the view must be enchanted since they were several hundred feet underground and it looked like a city park with tall trees and benches along walkways bathed in sunshine. In the room were about twenty desks, with all but three occupied; all eyes turned when Harry walked in.

He knew or recognized everyone: Ernie Macmillan, Susan Bones, Alicia Spinnet, Katie Bell, Padma and Parvati Patil, Tony Goldstein, Justin Finch-Fletchley, some older people who had been ahead of Harry at Hogwarts, as well as three or four from his own year who had not been in Dumbledore’s Army. There were none from Slytherin; maybe, Harry thought, they would start joining in a few years, when the current batch of first-years left school.

Almost everyone smiled, and those who didn’t looked at him curiously; some called greetings. Ernie got up and shook his hand warmly. Seamus sat, and Ron led Harry to two empty seats next to the windows, in front of two of the older students. The one behind Harry leaned forward and tapped his shoulder. “Tom Trenton,” he introduced himself when Harry turned. “I was in Hufflepuff, two years ahead of you. Welcome.” He shook Harry’s hand.

A moment later the door opened and a middle-aged witch walked in, glancing at Harry; she had a long braid of blond hair beginning to turn gray, steel-rimmed half-moon glasses like Professor Dumbledore’s, and green robes trimmed in silver with a Slytherin insignia on the chest pocket. She nodded to the class when she got to the front.

“Good morning everyone, and welcome to you, Mr. Potter. I’m Professor Remington.” She nodded to him again. Her wand flicked almost imperceptibly and Harry jumped back as a thick book appeared on his desk; the title: _Hidden Hexes, Surreptitious Spells, And Sub-rosa Substances: How To Find Them_. “We are currently on chapter fifteen. However, today we’re doing a lab on detection. By tomorrow I expect you to be less than fifteen chapters behind, at least in reading.” She smiled.

Harry swallowed and nodded. He leafed through a few pages, but stopped when Professor Remington spoke again.

“We’ll be going into the lab in a few minutes to work on the summer squashes I handed out on Friday. Let’s work hard and help each other out because tomorrow I’d like to move on to the rutabagas. First, though, I have your written analyses from the dust bunny assignment.”

She waved her wand and a parchment appeared on each person’s desk. Students began looking them over, and Ron, sitting next to Harry, pumped his fist and grinned. “Aced it,” he whispered. “There were glumbumble eggs embedded in the dust. They’re invisible.”

Professor Remington was speaking. “Are there any questions? The bunnies contained colonies of glumbumble eggs. The insects themselves have been used in crimes involving mood changes. Yes, Miss Patil?”

While Parvati was asking a question, Harry was wondering about the professor’s comment that glumbumbles could change someone’s mood. He had never heard of them, but he couldn’t help thinking about Turntongue.

His mind came back to the class when people started getting up and moving through a door in the back of the room. “Come on,” Ron said to him, “you’ve been assigned as my lab partner. You’ll love this.”

Harry followed Ron into the laboratory next door. There were long work benches with water spigots, sinks, cauldrons, candles, and other equipment. Ron led him to one of the cauldrons and peered in. Harry looked over his shoulder and saw what looked like a sickly yellow potion with slices of a yellow vegetable floating in it; Ron stirred it with his wand and a disgusting reek arose. “How can anyone eat these things?” he muttered. “They remind me of slugs.”

“What are you supposed to do?” Harry asked, wrinkling his nose.

“There’s either a spell or a magical substance hidden in it, and we’re supposed to identify it. I’ve narrowed it down to a substance, maybe a dissolved powder. Everyone else has figured out at least that much too. There are about twenty incantations you can use to dig it out, but they have to be used in the right order and the right strength, otherwise you can destroy the substance, and sometimes the cauldron goes up with it. And with this vile slop, I wouldn’t want it to explode all over the place.”

Harry watched as Ron tried a few incantations. After the last one the fetid liquid started bubbling, and the stench grew worse. Ron tried to wave the fumes away. “Unfortunately, that means I’m on the right track. I think the next one—”

“Why don’t you try it, Mr. Potter?” said Professor Remington, standing right behind them, smiling at Harry. “Mr. Weasley, demonstrate the next sequential incantation, if you don’t mind. Just turn your back on the cauldron and it won’t be affected.”

Ron showed Harry the wand movement and the incantation. Harry looked at the professor. “Um,” he began, but she shook her head and pointed to the cauldron. Harry took out the phoenix wand, tried to give Ron a silent warning to move back, and waved his wand, saying loudly, ” _Mustela et promptu!”_

The cauldron made a grunting sound, and Harry felt a hand grab his shoulder and yank him back. The next instant there was a loud bang and a fountain of yellow slime erupted from the cauldron, splattering everything within a yard of it. There were shrieks from around the room, and Harry smelled the worst stench he had ever known, as whatever had been in the cauldron started dribbling down his face. He was about to gag, when someone moved in front of him. _”Scourgify!”_ a voice said, and he blinked as the smell and the sticky substance that had covered his face vanished. Professor Remington turned to Ron, cleaned him off, and looked appraisingly at Harry; he thought he saw a twinkle in her eye.

“We’ll work on that, Mr. Potter,” she said. “Some wands are stronger than others. Yours appears to be in that category. May I see it?”

Harry handed it to her, and looked guiltily at Ron; his mate had a bemused look, but grinned. “I forgot about that,” he said, but stopped as Harry raised his hand. Harry glanced quickly at Remington, but she appeared not to have heard. She rolled Harry’s wand between her fingers and bent it slightly, then waved it and a few blue sparks flew from the end.

She looked at Harry. “What’s in the core, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“A phoenix tail feather from Fawkes. He was Professor Dumbledore’s phoenix.”

Remington’s eyes narrowed. “Ah, yes. I had forgotten. Tom Riddle’s wand was this one’s brother. Well, his certainly proved the weaker.” She smiled again. “You bent your wrist about half an inch too much on the down stroke of your motion. But I would suggest that you try it first without any wrist at all. That way you can build up to the proper angle. When you get home tonight, fill a teapot with water, bring it to a boil, dissolve a lump of sugar in it, and use the incantation and the motion. When you get it right, the water will fly out, leaving the sugar behind.”

“Is that all?” Harry asked.

“No, then you steep some Earl Grey in the water, re-dissolve the sugar, and have a cuppa.”

“Okay,” Harry grinned.

Remington moved on to Seamus and Parvati at the next cauldron. Ron peered inside theirs, frowned, and reached into it with a long-handled silver spoon. When he took the spoon out it was holding a black tar-like substance. He smelled it tentatively and raised his eyebrows at Harry.

“This is it, I think. Usually it just settles out of the liquid, but now we don’t have any liquid. Just a sec.” He pulled a copy of their textbook from his book bag and flipped through it. “Yes,” he grinned at Harry. “Peruvian Darkness Powder. It’s still a little damp, but if we dried it out, I’ll bet it would be pure enough for George to sell.”

Harry gaped at him and looked inside the cauldron. “Are you sure?”

“Well,” Ron glanced around, “we really don’t want to test it here, but that’s what it looks like.” He lowered his voice and leaned close to Harry. “There has to be a connection between this and what you found in the Shack. It’s too coincidental.”

Harry nodded. “I’m spending the afternoon with Saliyah. I’ll ask her.”

Ron dried out the residue inside the cauldron, and soon the class was over. Before they left the lab, Professor Remington handed Harry a parchment. “These are the topics I’d like you to cover with Professor Matthewson,” she told him. “It’s a lot, but you should be pretty much caught up by the end of March.” Harry nodded and glanced down the list; there were about twenty topics, and he wondered if he would be getting a similar list from all of his professors.

The whole class ate lunch together in the cafeteria. They pushed tables together and had a boisterous time giving Harry advice and describing each professor’s peccadilloes. Everyone was meeting with his or her mentor in the afternoon, and in the lift back up, Ron suggested that he and Harry stop off at Diagon Alley afterwards.

“Can’t,” said Harry. “I’m meeting with Professor Matthewson every day after hours to do catch-up.”

“You’re kidding!” Ron looked worried. “I mean, Matthewson’s okay, but he’ll keep you till nine o’clock every night.”

“That’s not what Percy said. He said it would be about an hour every night.”

“Percy don’t know jack, and you’ll have homework on top of that.”

“What can I do?” Harry shrugged. “I spent six years doing the same thing at Hogwarts. I’ll survive.”

“Just let me know when you need help. I can Floo there any time you need me, right? And so can Hermione.”

“Now you’re talking,” Harry grinned. “How many times did she bail us out?”

“Too many to count. Oh, and here.” Ron lowered his voice and slipped a small leather pouch into Harry’s hand. “I nicked a bit of the powder. You never know when you might need a little darkness.”

Harry put the pouch in his pocket. The lift clattered to a stop at the second level and they separated; Ron went to the right towards the training program section, and Harry turned left and followed signs to the Auror Section. He soon found himself in Saliyah’s office where the Auror witch who Harry had seen many times with Saliyah was sitting behind a desk. She rose and extended her hand.

“We’ve never been introduced properly,” she said, but did not smile. “I’m Laura Lovegood, and yes, Luna is my niece. Miss Ushujaa is still at lunch, but she’ll be back momentarily. You’re a little early.”

“I wanted to be sure I was on time,” Harry said. She ignored that statement and sat back down.

Harry took a seat in a chair near the door. He looked at the Auror; she was bent over a parchment, writing furiously. He could not imagine anyone less like Luna or her father, whose sister this witch must be. She physically resembled Xenophilius somewhat, but she had none of his or Luna’s airy detachment from the world; she was all business and efficiency. Maybe Luna’s grandmother and grandfather were as different as Laura was from her brother.

In a few minutes Saliyah swept in carrying a folder bound in string. She nodded to Harry, spoke a few words to Lovegood, and beckoned Harry to follow her. They went into the inner office and Saliyah threw the folder onto her desk.

“We’re heading down to the docks,” she said, and grinned. “Nothing like getting thrown into the fire on your first day. It seems that we’ve come across something that might be related to your problems up in Hogsmeade. But sit first, and let’s talk.” She indicated a chair in front of her desk.

Harry sat. He wanted to ask her about Peruvian Darkness Powder, but maybe the subject was about to come up anyway. Saliyah also sat, and gazed down at her desk for a moment. Finally she looked up.

“Your first few months are going to be rough, Harry. Matty Matthewson is going to push you, and I want you to be at the same level as everyone else by the end of term, which, I’m sure you’ll be glad to know, will coincide with the end of the Hogwarts term.” She grinned. “I want you and Ginny to have plenty of time to get ready for your wedding.”

“Merlin!” Harry exclaimed. “I hope you didn’t actually plan it that way.“

“No,” she laughed, “we did plan it to end when Hogwarts ended, but even though I told Molly last summer that there was going to be another wedding at the Burrow, I’m not a Seer.” She became serious, and again gazed at the desktop for a few moments. “This is a three-year course, and then there’s a two-year apprenticeship, but I want to get something out on the table right now, because it’s going to influence how we run this program for the next few years.”

Harry had an idea what was coming, and took a breath. Saliyah paused and looked at him thoughtfully. “You know what I’m going to say, don’t’ you?”

Harry nodded. “But I’ve changed my mind about a lot of things in the past couple of months.”

“I know you have. Well . . .” She paused again before plunging in. “Kingsley and I want to groom you to take over this office in five years, at the latest.”

Hearing it said was quite different from imagining it. Harry sat unmoving for a long moment; Saliyah just watched him.

“What do the other Aurors think about that?” Harry said in a soft voice. “Wouldn’t a lot of them want the job themselves? Won’t they resent a kid in his early twenties being their boss?”

“There will be grumbling and maybe some resistance, that is true. But that’s a bridge we’ll cross when we come to it. Right now there’s just a lot of speculation going around, and you’ll undoubtedly hear things in the rumor mill. Five years from now you may have to deal with some who don’t like it, but remember also that by then we’ll have at least a couple of dozen new Aurors like yourself, and none of them will resent working for you.”

“None?”

She smiled. “Okay, maybe some, but that’s the bridge we’ll cross.”

Harry said nothing. Even though he suspected from everything that Kingsley and Saliyah had said over the past months that this would happen, it scared him. Feelings welled up, feelings that had been part of him for as far back as he could remember: he wanted to be left alone to live his life; he wanted a semblance of order and predictability; he didn’t want to save the world, he just wanted to be happy.

But those feelings were no longer ruling him. He noticed a Spellotape dispenser sitting on the desk, and thought of the note he had taped to his mirror that morning. There was a girl waiting for him in Hogwarts who _had_ made him happy. But the horrible thing he had done to Ginny had fundamentally changed him; he should not have been forgiven, but not only had she forgiven him, she had never doubted him; she had an unwavering faith in him.

That faith was the crucible of his happiness; it was what had made him change himself, and now he no longer feared the future that was being offered to him. If he accepted that future, nothing in the universe could ever dislodge Ginny’s faith. Ginny was his core; fighting for a decent and just world for her to live in, to bear their children in, was his destiny.

He looked up; Saliyah was gazing at him with a bright look in her dark eyes. Her face had an intense expression that seemed to be a mix of expectation, hope, and uncertainty. He took another breath. “I’ll do it.”

The Auror let out her breath, and her face lit up in a broad smile. “Thank you, Harry,” she said simply.

They looked at each other for a moment, and Harry laughed nervously. “What are we doing at the docks?”

Saliyah smiled again. “Excellent question.” She untied the string around the folder on her desk and opened it. She leafed through it and handed him a parchment. It was Sagittaria Slocum’s report, dated two days ago. Glancing down it, he saw a large red circle around the words, “Peruvian Darkness Powder.”

“I drew the circle,” Saliyah said. “Sagittaria didn’t think it was significant; there wasn’t enough evidence to tie it to anything else. But take a look at this.” She handed him another item from the folder. This was not a parchment; it was paper, and it appeared to be an official document of the British Muggle government.

“It’s a ship’s cargo manifest,” Saliyah explained when Harry gave her a puzzled look. “A tramp steamer named The Southern Sky arrived in London last week from Malaysia, but its voyage began two months ago in Buenos Aires. It was met in port here by two young men wearing funny clothes. They picked up a sealed barrel and disappeared with it. The captain of the ship, a Señor Cejas, was persuaded by a thick envelope of Muggle money to give us a copy of the manifest. He showed us the item on it that the two wizards had taken, but it wasn’t hard to figure out. Do you see it?”

Harry ran his finger down the paper, and stopped on “Coal, 50 kg.” He whistled.

“That’s a lot of Darkness Powder. How did you find out about this? There must be hundreds of ships coming and going from all the ports in Britain.”

“Thousands. We have people watching ports, airports, train stations. We don’t catch everything, but in this case we had a tip from Lee Jordan. It’s a long story, but the captain knew that someone else might be interested in his ‘coal,’ and he thought he might be able to raise the price if more than one party bid on it. He somehow managed to contact Lee and George. They haven’t carried Darkness Powder since it was used against the Order two years ago at Hogwarts, so Lee reported it to us.” She grunted. “Lucky for Cejas too. I don’t think the people who ordered the stuff would have taken kindly to a double cross.”

Harry thought for a moment. “So at least two months ago someone ordered fifty kilos of Peruvian Darkness Powder, then those two Argentine workers came down here and took it from the ship. And, the captain knew that it was something that George and Lee would be interested in, which means he’s met wizards before. And there’s one more thing.”

Saliyah raised her eyebrows. “Something else?”

“Yes. In my first class this morning, we were trying to detect a magical substance that was inside a vegetable. I sort of made a mess, but Ron said the substance was Peruvian Darkness Powder. Here.” He took the pouch that Ron had given him from his pocket and dropped in on the desk.

Saliyah took it with a tiny smile and peered inside. She took a pinch and flung it up above her head. The room darkened, as though the sun had dimmed. She waved her wand and the room was bright again. Her brow was furrowed. “Anna Remington is teaching that class?”

Harry nodded, and Saliyah got up and went around the desk. She opened the door and spoke to her assistant. “Laura, try to track down Anna Remington. She’s probably down on level nine. Ask her if she can come up for a minute.”

The Auror came back and sat again. “This is a problem we’ve always had. Madam Remington works for the Wizengamot, not Magical Law Enforcement, and it seems that she has a source of Darkness Powder that we don’t know about. Well, we’ll find out soon enough.”

She sat in thought until Harry spoke. “So what are we doing at the docks?”

Saliyah broke from her reverie. “We’re going to check in with the chap who’s watching the ship. It’s an interesting neighborhood. Have you ever been down there?”

Harry shook his head. He had heard stories from Dean about that end of town, near the home field of his favorite Muggle football team, West Ham; it always sounded a bit dodgy.

“The Ministry owns an old building down there that we use to Apparate into. Our man also lives there.”

“Who is he? Or is that something I don’t need to know?”

Saliyah took a deep breath. “We definitely do not tell ordinary trainees things like that. But . . .” She looked away for a moment; when she looked back she was wearing a deadly serious expression. “Listen closely, Harry. I’m going to start making it a practice to bring you in on everything, and I mean everything. But it’s a test of your judgment. If I tell you something that is secret, you must keep it to yourself.” She picked up the pouch of Darkness Powder sitting on her desk. “This tells me, which I already was pretty sure of, that you and Ron Weasley talk about things. I’m sure that intimacy has served you well, and I don’t criticize you for it. But what passes between you and me, as your mentor and as Head Auror, must stay between us. Is that clear?”

“Yes, completely. What about Ginny? Can I talk to her?”

“Absolutely,” the Auror said without hesitating. “But it _has_ to stay between the two of you. Married Aurors always have that permission, it’s really a necessity to have someone to talk to.”

“Um, we’re not married yet.” Harry felt a warm flush rise on his face.

Saliyah grinned. “Close enough. And neither are Kingsley and I.”

Harry sat back in his chair and pondered what Ron’s reaction might be to this new fact in their friendship. If Harry was eventually going to be Ron’s boss, something like this was bound to happen sooner or later. It didn’t make Harry happy, though; Ron was going to be excluded from the part of Harry’s life that Ron himself had helped create. Harry could only hope that his friend would understand that he had no choice.

There was a knock on the door and Anna Remington walked in. Saliyah stood, and so did Harry. The witch nodded to him. “You summoned me, Saliyah?” she said; Harry couldn’t tell if she was annoyed or joking.

“Yes, please sit. I found out from Harry that one of your experiments in class involved Peruvian Darkness Powder. Do you mind my asking where you got it? A rather large quantity just came into the country illegally, and we’re trying to track it down.”

“My dear,” Remington said, “we got it from your own man. One would think that you knew what _he_ was doing, at least.”

Saliyah stared at her. “You mean Fletcher?”

Harry’s head jerked up. “Mundungus Fletcher?” he said.

Remington looked at him with one eyebrow raised. “The very man. I can’t imagine there’s more than one villain like him with the same name.”

Harry looked at Saliyah, but she gave him a glance that told him to keep quiet. No one spoke. Remington started humming a tune Harry recognized from Muggle radio broadcasts he had heard at the Dursleys. He knew that Saliyah was embarrassed, but he didn’t know if there was anything he could do. Finally the Auror sighed.

“It looks like Dung is free-lancing again. I thought we had him on a leash, but he’s slipped it. How much did he sell you?”

“About twenty pounds, and I’m sure we got everything that he had. I tried to pay him with leprechaun’s gold, but he wouldn’t take it.” She grinned. “I can see why you want him to work for you, Saliyah, but he’s uncontrollable; he’ll steal anything. He’s a delight.”

Saliyah just shook her head ruefully. “Your entertainment is our headache. Thank you, Anna. I appreciate your coming up here.”

The witch left and Harry leaned forward. “You know, there is something that might put a damper on him.” Saliyah gave him a doubtful look. “No, really,” Harry said. “At Ginny’s birthday party she did some nice things for him after Mrs. Weasley and Bill threatened him with instant death if he stole anything. The poor git was terrified, but then Ginny brought him a piece of the cake, and he kind of melted. I never saw him like that before.”

Saliyah shrugged. “I doubt we can use something like that on him. But never mind. It’s time to leave. We’re going back to The Southern Sky, and we’re going to try to find out exactly where they picked up the Darkness Powder, and who paid them. If we can discover who the Captain dealt with on earlier trips, that’ll be a bonus.”

She went to the outer office and came back with Laura. “Hold my arm, Harry,” said Saliyah. “We’ll do a Side-Along since you don’t know anything about the place.” Harry grasped her arm tightly, and in a moment they were inside what looked like a small, rundown warehouse, completely empty except for a few folding chairs and, off in a corner, a curtain that closed off a few square feet. No lights were lit, and the only illumination came from the grimy windows near the ceiling. A moment later Lovegood appeared with a loud pop.

“Over here,” Saliyah said, and led them to a tiny office along one wall. Inside was a trunk, and in the trunk were a half-dozen ratty old overcoats. “Put one of these on over your robes. You won’t stand out quite so much.”

Harry took a gray overcoat from the trunk. He couldn’t imagine how he would be less conspicuous wearing it; there were large holes in the elbows, the collar was torn, and there was only one button. He held it up, pointed his wand, and said, “ _Reparo!_ ”

The result was marginally better: large patches had appeared on the elbows. Saliyah and Laura didn’t bother to repair theirs, though, and Harry followed them through an outer door onto the street. A few Muggles were about, dressed not much better than themselves, and Harry realized why they were wearing these tattered overcoats.

They walked rapidly past shabby buildings, dodged traffic as they crossed two wide streets, and Harry saw the upper portion of a ship ahead of them. In a moment they emerged on the river, and he got a better look at their destination.

He had heard the term “rust bucket,” and it perfectly described this ship. It looked tired and old. It was small, about a hundred feet long with a raised superstructure in the middle and small cranes at either end. The sides of the hull had patches of rust-colored paint showing through the black over-coat. A small stream of smoke issued from its single stack. A few bored sailors were leaning over the railing, about twenty feet above Harry’s head, looking at him and the two Aurors. One of them spat; it missed Harry by a foot and he looked up.

“Sorry, mate,” one of the sailors said. “I’ll aim better next time.”

Harry fingered his wand but Saliyah put her hand on his arm. “No magic in public unless someone’s in danger.”

“I think I was in danger of catching his diseases,” Harry muttered; he moved back a few feet and glared up at the man. After a moment the sailor walked away; the others just stared at them.

Saliyah continued past the ship to a small wooden shack standing by itself on the very end of the pier. Harry and Laura followed, and as they passed the stern Harry saw “The Southern Sky” in white lettering painted on it.

The shack was too small for them to enter. Saliyah was already inside talking to a sailor who stood behind a desk, and when Harry craned his neck to peer in, he saw Mundungus Fletcher backed into a corner, as far from Saliyah as he could get in the cramped space. When he saw Harry, his eyes bulged, but shifted in different directions. Saliyah noticed and put her hand in her pocket. Mundungus stiffened; Harry was sure he was about to Disapparate, and wondered what the sailor would have thought of that.

The man came outside and brushed past Harry; Saliyah followed, pulling Mundungus after her. “He’s getting the captain, ”she said.

“How are you, Dung,” Harry asked pleasantly. “We’ve missed you since the party.”

“Who?”

“Me and Ginny. We’ve missed you. Ginny talks about you all the time.” Saliyah scowled at Harry, but he ignored her. “We’re getting married, you know. You’ll be invited.”

“Oh?” Fletcher smiled. “She’s a sweetie, ‘arry. You’re a lucky bloke. When is it?”

“We haven’t set a date yet, but it’ll be some time next summer. We’ll be sure to send you an invitation.”

Fletcher beamed. “That’s real nice of you, ‘arry. I like Ginny. She was very nice to me at ‘er party.”

“Yeah, she is nice.” Harry smiled back. “Say, Dung, we were wondering how you got that Peruvian Darkness Powder that you sold to Madam Remington.” Saliyah coughed loudly, and Fletcher glanced at her.

“Well . . . I—I don’t, I don’t really know, it—it was . . .” He trailed off and peered at Harry. “Ginny asked about me, you say? That’s—that sounds like ‘er. She’s a sweetie.”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded; he noticed that Saliyah was not scowling anymore, but was listening to the conversation with interest. “She’s the best, no doubt.”

Mundungus nodded; he was sweating slightly, although it was quite chilly and a breeze was blowing along the river; his straggly hair ruffled in the wind. He looked around nervously, and lowered his voice. “I—I got it off of two foreign chaps. See, they had about a hundred pounds. No one needs that much, do they?” He looked at Saliyah, and she shook her head. “Right!” he nodded eagerly. “So I—I, well since they didn’t need all of it, I just borrowed some and . . .”

“You borrowed it and Obliviated them,” Harry finished for him.

“Well . . .” Fletcher looked at Saliyah again, but this time with apprehension. “Maybe I did, I’m not sure, I forget now if I actually did that.”

Harry suppressed a laugh and patted Mundungus’s shoulder; the man flinched and backed away, bumping into Saliyah who grabbed his arm.

“Okay, Mr. Fletcher,” she said quietly. “We’re going back to the warehouse for a little talk. If you don’t want to come back there with me, then we can arrange a meeting on the tenth level of the Ministry instead.”

Fletcher swallowed; his eyes were now flitting back and forth between the Aurors, Harry, and the open road at the foot of the pier. Saliyah shook him slightly and he nodded. “S -sure, Miss Ushujaa, in the warehouse, no problem.” He was sweating profusely now, and Saliyah loosened her grip on his arm but didn’t let go. She turned to Harry and spoke quickly.

“I’m taking him back to the warehouse. You and Laura talk to the captain. Try to find out who gave him the powder.”

Harry opened his mouth, but Saliyah had turned and was walking away, now with a firm grip on Mundungus’s arm.

Harry looked at Laura, and she smiled tightly. “Got it?”

“No,” Harry retorted, “but I’ll give it my best shot.”

In a few minutes two men descended the short gangplank onto the pier and came towards them. One was the sailor who had been in the tiny shack; the other was an older man with a short goatee and bleary eyes, wearing a battered peaked cap. He stopped when he saw Harry and Laura standing alone.

“Where’s that African woman?” he said gruffly, in slightly accented English. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m her stu—her assistant,” Harry said in as authoritative a voice as he could muster. “We want to know where you loaded that Peruv—that coal, and who paid you.”

“Oh you do? And what fucking business is it of yours? Christ Almighty!” He spat on the ground. “I’ll talk to her, Ushulu, or whatever the hell her name is. She made it worth my while.” He held his hand out and rubbed his thumb against his forefinger. “You got anything to make it worth my while, pup?”

“We already paid you. We need to know—”

“You need to know?” The captain laughed. “You need to get off of my fucking dock.” He took a step towards Harry, and Harry put his hand in his pocket. Laura yanked him back, and Harry lost his balance and tripped over her foot. He caught himself before he fell, but the two men laughed. There was also hooting from the ship; Harry looked up and saw the sailor who had spat at him leaning over the railing again with his shipmates.

The captain turned without a word and walked back up the gangplank; his companion looked at Harry for a moment and went back inside the shack.

“Too bad, kid,” a voice came from the ship. “I guess you’ll have to go home now and get your nappy changed.” The crewmen standing with him sniggered, and one of them spat down onto the dock.

Harry started to turn away, but as he did he gestured at the sailor who had spoken, and suddenly the man began to hiccup loudly. As Harry and Laura walked off the pier, they could hear him gasping and wheezing between hiccups.

“It’ll only last an hour,” Harry said to Laura, who looked at him but said nothing.

They returned to the warehouse, and as soon as they were inside Harry took off his overcoat and threw it back into the trunk. They found Saliyah and Mundungus in the main room; he was sitting on one of the folding chairs, and she was standing over him with her wand out. They both looked at Harry and Laura when they entered, and Mundungus’s frightened expression became a little less fearful.

“Did you find out anything?” Saliyah asked; Harry shook his head.

“He got angry. He said he would talk to you, but he wanted more gold.”

“I expected something like that,” the Auror said. “It would have been better if I had stayed, but we couldn’t talk to them and hold him—” she indicated Mundungus “—at the same time. He would have Disapparated right in front of them. Okay.” She thought for a moment; Mundungus shifted in the chair and glanced nervously at Harry. Finally Saliyah put her wand away.

“There’s nothing else we can do here. Mundungus,” she said to the man; he began to tremble. “I’m going to report you to the Wizengamot for stealing that Darkness Powder. If you screw up again, my guess is that they’ll want to talk to you. Understand?” She gave him a fierce look, and he drew back.

“S—sure, Miss Ushujaa. I’m sorry I borrowed that powder. It won’t ‘appen again.”

“Fine, now get going. You know what you’re supposed to do.” Mundungus nodded quickly, glanced at Harry, and scurried out the door.

They returned to Saliyah’s office in the Ministry. Laura went back into the front office after whispering briefly to the Auror, and Harry took his seat in front of her desk. “Tell me exactly what happened,” she said.

Harry told her, and she was silent for a moment. “What was that hand gesture you used on the sailor?” she finally asked.

“Uh, that was just a little thing I decided to do,” Harry mumbled.

“Where was your wand?”

“In my pocket. Miss Lovegood wouldn’t let me take it out.”

“So you used a hand movement to cast a hex. I remember you talking about that last summer. You said you could do certain kinds of magic without your wand as long as it was touching your body. I vaguely remember a peach pie.”

“Yes, that was it,” Harry grinned. “I—” He stopped when she raised her hand.

“If you were an Auror and pulled a stunt like that you would be disciplined.” She pointed her finger at him. “And if you do it again, that’s what will happen.”

Harry looked down; he felt himself flush. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “It won’t happen again.”

“Good. Now, let’s see where we stand.” She flipped open the folder that was still lying on her desk; it seemed to Harry that there were a few more parchments in it than there had been when they left for the docks. “What do you think?” she asked.

“Um. Well, I don’t know what Dung told you.”

‘He told me nothing that we don’t already know. But _you_ discovered something, Harry, when you talked to Captain Cejas.”

Harry frowned, trying to remember his conversation with the irascible Muggle. The man hadn’t wanted to talk to Harry, but the only time he wasn’t swearing at him was . . . Harry grinned. “He does know something about the source of the powder.”

Saliyah beamed. “Exactly! He was fishing for another bribe. I don’t think he would try to scam us. He thinks we’re a bunch of freaks—” Harry winced at the word “—and he’s a little bit afraid of us too. If he isn’t superstitious himself, you can bet his crew are, and he won’t want to upset them by having us do something crazy.”

“So what do we do now?”

“I don’t know.” She smiled at his surprised look. “We’ll see if Mundungus can ferret out any more information, and we’ll pursue our leads up in Hogsmeade. That’s where the powder is now, eighty or ninety pounds of it, and that’s where they’ll use it.”

“But for what? I’m kind of nervous about it. Whoever is behind this, is trying to get at me, and there are too many other people in the line of fire. Ginny got hurt and they almost killed me.”

Saliyah heaved a sigh. “I’m sorry about everything that’s happened, Harry. We didn’t take it seriously enough at first, and we sent the wrong person up there to look out for you. But you know that we’re up against a Fidelius charm, and that’s unbreakable. I’m sure it’s hiding the Darkness Powder, as well as everything else.”

She looked at her clock; it was almost five. “Enough for today.” She stood and smiled. “I’m very pleased with the way you’ve started.”

“Me too, except for that one—”

Saliyah waved him off. “That’s done with. Now, I believe you’re meeting with Professor Matthewson after hours. I’ll take you to his office.”

She took Harry back to the training program section and left him in an office near the classroom he had been in that morning. Professor Matthewson was short and wiry with a friendly face and short, dark hair. Harry and the professor spent the next hour and a half talking about Professor Remington's list of topics and going over the first chapter of Harry’s Evidence Analysis textbook. Then he helped Harry with some elementary spells, and they went into the lab. They took a small stone from one of the specimen drawers, and Harry tried a rudimentary Detection spell; he determined that it had been Levitated in the past forty-eight hours, and Matthewson was duly impressed.

Harry got back to his flat and collapsed on the rug, exhausted. But he also felt immensely satisfied and excited. He had finally begun his new career, and if he succeeded—about which he had no doubt—in five years he would be Head Auror of the entire British wizarding world. He rolled onto his back and laughed out loud, and heard a hoot as McPherson landed on his stomach.

“Hey, old boy.” Harry reached down and stroked the owl’s head. “Meet your next Head Auror.” He laughed again when McPherson ducked his head. Harry noticed the parchment tied to his leg, and took it. McPherson flew back to his perch and Harry sat in the love seat and read Ginny’s letter.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

> _My love,_
> 
> _I can’t stand waiting to hear what happened today. I was all tingly inside thinking about you, and then in the afternoon, around one o’clock, all of a sudden I knew that something grand had happened. I don’t know what it was, but please tell me as soon as you get back. I miss you so much, and I wish there was a way we could see each other today... or maybe more than see..._
> 
> _I love you more than ever._
> 
> _Ginny_

Harry gazed into the fireplace, trying to think of a way to tell Ginny what that “grand” thing was. He couldn’t put it in an owl; it would be a disaster if someone else found out. He would have to go to the school, but he also had to begin studying; Professor Matthewson had reviewed the first chapter of the textbook, but Harry knew that he hadn’t nearly mastered it.

Finally he wrote back to Ginny. He knew from the Marauder’s Map that she was in the Great Hall eating dinner, so after McPherson flew off with his letter he went downstairs and ate his own meal. When he got back, Ginny’s reply was there and his plan was set. He napped for half an hour, then studied until midnight, including a partly successful attempt at the water-and-sugar experiment Professor Remington had described.

Finally the map showed that the Gryffindor common room was empty except for Ginny’s dot. He went to the fireplace and in an instant he was holding and kissing her and pushing her down into his favorite old chair in front of the fireplace. When they finished snogging they were both breathless, and they sat for several minutes, Ginny in Harry’s lap, her arms around him and her head on his shoulder.

“I won’t survive until the weekend,” she sighed. “I have no idea what they taught in any of my classes today. All I did was daydream about you.”

Harry kissed her brow. “I have some interesting news, but it’s just between you and me. Saliyah said that you were the only person I could talk to, and you can’t tell anyone else.”

“Of course,” Ginny said. “I expected that.”

“Well, I’m not sure how Ron will like it.”

“He doesn’t have a choice. What’s your news?”

“When I’m finished with the program, Kingsley wants me to be Head Auror.”

Ginny’s mouth fell open; she stared at him and a smile spread across her face. “Oh, Harry.” She kissed him. “Oh, Harry. I love you. That’s the most utterly brilliant thing I’ve ever heard.” She kissed him again. “That must make you feel so good.”

He grinned and nodded. “You’ll be Mrs. Head Auror. How does that sound?”

Ginny got a faraway look. “Yes, the timing will be perfect . . .”

“The timing for what?”

“For everything. Harry, you didn’t bring your Cloak with you by any chance, did you?”

“It just so happens . . .” He reached inside his shirt and pulled out the Invisibility Cloak. “Why do you ask?”

“You don’t think we could go see what’s up in the Room of Requirement, do you?”

He grinned lasciviously. “That’s an interesting way to put it.”

When they left the common room under the Cloak the Fat Lady was asleep, and when they returned two hours later and had to wake her up, she was too drowsy to care about Ginny’s being out of the common room so late. They kissed goodnight at the door to the girls’ dormitory, and they slept in their own beds, missing each other, but not in their dreams.


	38. A Flower in the Snow

The next day Harry had two classes in the morning—Investigations, and again Evidence Analysis—and two in the afternoon—History of Aurors, and Disarming and Restraining, which the trainees called “DNR.” He ate lunch with Kingsley and Saliyah in Kingsley’s office, and they talked about the Minister’s dream of what he wanted the Ministry of Magic to become. It wasn’t new to Harry; Kingsley had stated the gist of it in his eulogies for Fred, Remus, and Tonks. But now Harry realized that he himself was part of Kingsley’s idealistic vision, and it excited him.

By the end of the day, however, his excitement had become overwhelmed by a drowning sensation. Each of his professors had given him a long list of catch-up topics, he had a stack of textbooks that must have weighed twenty or thirty pounds, and he didn’t know what half of the terms were that the Investigations teacher, Professor Thoroughgood, had used during his lecture. He spent two hours with Professor Matthewson and didn’t get home until after eight o’clock. He sent Ginny a quick note saying he had to get to work, asked Winky to send dinner up to the flat, and spread his homework out on the kitchen table. When the serving dishes magically appeared half an hour later, they very un-magically shoved aside everything on the table and several parchments and three textbooks crashed to the floor.

Swearing at his stupidity, Harry moved his homework to the parlor and spread it out on the floor. He continued to study, but took a break when McPherson returned with Ginny’s letter, which was filled with news. Luna had told her that her Aunt Laura, who Harry had mentioned to Ginny yesterday, had cut herself off from Luna and her father years ago; more students were following Emma and Claire’s example and eating meals at other House tables; Hagrid and Madame Maxime had been spotted out on the Black Lake in one of the magical boats, sitting rather low in the water (apparently they didn’t mind the sub-freezing temperature); and there were more rumors that the school was going to be sealed off because of the attack on Harry at the Shrieking Shack.

He wrote back saying that at the rate his work was piling up, he wouldn’t be able to see her tomorrow at Hogwarts. After he sent it off, he went into the bedroom, got the photograph of Ginny that sat on his nightstand, and put it on the floor in the parlor next to the pile of textbooks; whenever he looked blearily up from a sentence he was re-writing for the third time, or a passage he was re-reading for the fourth time, she smiled and blew him a kiss.

He fell asleep on the floor long after midnight and woke up there the next morning, stiff and poorly rested; his cold, untouched dinner was still in the kitchen. He stumbled downstairs and Winky made him breakfast, muttering under her breath about wizards who didn’t eat their dinners and slept on floors.

Fortunately, Wednesday mornings in the program were free so that the trainees could get some catch up time in the middle of the week. Unfortunately for Harry, Professor Matthewson decided he would rather get together with him now than stay after hours. At first Harry was annoyed and even a little panicky; he didn’t see how he could avoid being swamped if Matthewson kept pushing ahead with all the lists of topics Harry had now acquired from all his professors. But Matthewson spent the entire three hours helping him with homework and with the passages in the Investigations textbook he had found incomprehensible. By lunchtime, Harry could actually see a way through the mountain range of work.

Ron watched him closely at lunch. They had finished eating and everyone else had gone back to level two. “How’s it going?” he asked. “You look a little peaky.”

“A little? Is that all?” Harry chuckled. “It’s only been two and a half days and I feel like I’ve been stuffed with more information than in a year at Hogwarts.”

“I thought that would happen. Look, a bunch of us have been talking, and we’re willing to take some time during lunch to help, if you—”

Harry waved his hand. “No. I don’t need help. Thanks, mate, but I’ll manage.”

Ron nodded and leaned closer. “Listen, mate, you have an attitude problem—” Harry scowled and started to say something, but Ron held up his hand “—but it’s not too late to save your career in law enforcement.” He grinned, and after a moment Harry grinned back.

“Okay, that’s a worthwhile goal. How do I change my attitude?”

“You haven’t been around long enough to learn that everything we do, we do as a team. You’ve been too swamped to see it, but we do all our experiments together, we help each other with spells, we do homework assignments together, hell, sometimes we even take exams together.” He paused, looked around, and lowered his voice further. “Do you know why Morequest Pester is finished as an Auror, unless he gets a personality transplant? It’s not because no one wants to work with him, it’s because he never wanted to work with anyone. It’s a shame, because the git’s brilliant, but so are a lot of people around here, including you.”

He sat back and shoved his hands into his pockets. “It’s really quite simple. We all get to know each other better and we learn each other’s strengths and weaknesses. And believe me, some folks have severe weaknesses.”

Harry couldn’t help laughing at Ron’s sardonic comment. “So what did you have in mind for remedial Investigations. That’s the one I’m having the most trouble with so far.”

“No problem. It turns out that it’s a breeze for Parvati and Padma. They have a knack for it. I’ll talk to them and you’ll figure which is the best day to meet. We’ll do the same with whatever subject you happen to be drowning in that week. Hey,” he grinned, “no one likes to have their weekends messed up with studying.”

Harry sat in silence, marveling; it had never occurred to him that people would want to use their free time to help him. But, he realized, it should have occurred to him. They had all turned up at Hogsmeade Station when he met the Hogwarts Express with food and drink. Everyone had welcomed him enthusiastically into the program. And so far no one had said anything about the rumors swirling around that Harry was already marked as the next Head Auror.

In the cafeteria and the corridors there hadbeen rumors, and looks, and some appraising stares. By now everyone in the Ministry knew that Harry was working there. Today, when he walked into the cafeteria, not a few tables had gone quiet when he walked past. It didn’t bother him; he was too used to it, and he knew that politics and rumors—often the same thing—would not be denied. He remembered some old conversations with Bill about Ministry politics, and remembered saying that he didn’t want anything to do with it. Well, too late now; it was part of his new territory.

Ron was looking at him curiously. “Daydreaming,” Harry acknowledged. “What time is it?”

“Almost time for mentors.” Ron glanced at a clock on the wall. “How did it go with Ushujaa, by the way? Did you go out on a case?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Brilliant! What was it? I think I’m going out on another one today. Two wizards got into a fight over a bad cauldron one of them sold to the other, and now they’re both in St. Mungo’s.”

“She told me not to say anything.” Harry glanced at Ron, who returned a surprised look.

“She said that? Why?”

Harry shrugged. “That’s the way she wants it. I’m not supposed to talk to anyone.”

“Not even to Ginny?”

“Yeah, she said I could tell Ginny.”

“Well, that’s good. You’ve got to have someone to talk to, otherwise you’ll go nutters. I tell Hermione everything.”

Harry felt a huge sense of relief. “So you don’t mind if I can’t tell you things?”

Ron shook his head. “They’re testing us to see if we can keep our mouths shut when we’re supposed to. I can tell you I’m investigating two twits who dueled over a stupid cauldron, but I can’t tell you their names. And I’ll bet if they had been caught at something really bad, like say, smuggling in Peruvian Darkness Powder, my mentor would have told me to keep it quiet.”

“Uh huh.” Harry looked away and stood. “Well, I guess it’s time to get going.”

Saliyah did not take him out this time; she had administrative work, which she showed briefly to Harry, and a case involving the French wizarding government. This held interest for Harry, since it concerned last summer’s escapees from Azkaban.

“Our people were tailing Dolores Umbridge when she was in France, but as you know they lost her. We assume that she came back here, but we don’t know for sure. We’ve been trying to get the French to help us, but they’re a little irritated because we didn’t talk to them before we sent our people over there after the escape.”

“I can understand that,” Harry said. “Why didn’t you ask them first?”

“We didn’t have time. If we hadn’t gone right after them we would have lost them completely. What we needed was a contact over there, someone who could have got permission—and help—right away. But our previous wizarding government wasn’t exactly what they considered a good neighbor, so they had pretty much cut off relations with Britain.”

Harry had a smile on his face. “A few months ago I had a talk with Bill Weasley, and he told me about some of the politics going on. But it’s even more complicated than that. And there’s also the goblins.”

“And the centaurs, and the Romanians, and the Germans. Not to mention the Muggles. Have you ever seen a Muggle circus? Well, sometimes it seems like we’re in one.”

They talked for a while about what Kingsley was trying to do to placate the French, and by then it was five o’clock. But as Harry was leaving for Professor Matthewson’s office,  Saliyah stopped him. “Percy will be making an announcement to the trainees tomorrow morning, but I wanted to give you a heads up. On Monday the Wizengamot will hold the trial of the four students who were arrested last month at Hogwarts. They’ll probably ask Ginny, Luna Lovegood, and Keesha Baker to testify. It’s a complicated case, and we thought it would be instructive for the trainees to observe.”

Harry frowned. “What’s so complicated? They beat up and almost killed three first-years.”

“That’s clear-cut. But someone put them up to it, and there are plenty of Warlocks who think we should use Veritaserum on them. If the Wizengamot decide to do that, the Minister can’t stop it.” She didn’t seem to be upset by that prospect, and Harry recalled the disagreement between her and Kingsley about Veritaserum at Ginny’s birthday party.

“Does Ginny know she may be called?”

“She will by this afternoon. Oh, and I asked Professor Matthewson to let you go early. I thought you might need more time for dinner.” She gave him a little smile and turned to the parchments on her desk.

Harry did get home early, before six. He checked his map and saw Ginny in her room, so he quickly changed and Floo’d to the Gryffindor common room, surprising the three second-years sitting in the chairs in front of he fireplace. He peered around them in time to see Ginny coming out the door from the girls’ dormitory with Emma and Claire. He ducked down, and stepped in front of Ginny just as she was walking past; she gave a yelp and leaped onto him, making him stagger backwards.

“What are you doing here?” she exclaimed after she had kissed him with her legs wrapped around his hips and her arms around his neck. “Aren’t you meeting with Professor What’s His Name? Matthewson?”

“They let me go early.” Harry set her down, grinning at the twins who were whispering to each other behind their hands. “What are you two talking about? Didn’t you ever see me kiss Ginny before?”

“That’s what we’re talking about,” Emma giggled. “You two never do anything else. If you’re going to get married, you have to learn how to talk to each other too.”

“You see?” Harry turned to Ginny. “That must be the Slytherin influence. Very rational, very calculating, no passion.”

“Sean is passionate!” Claire exclaimed. She turned bright red as Harry and Ginny both stared at her.

“What I mean,” the girl said hotly, “is that he believes passionately in things. Honestly.” She rolled her eyes.

“Have you been spending time with Hermione?” Harry asked, trying hard not to laugh. “You sound just like her.”

They had left the common room and were on their way down to the Great Hall. The twins switched the topic to Defense Against the Dark Arts and Madame Maxime, who was fast becoming the most popular teacher in school, especially with girls.

“I don’t know where she gets all her clothes,” said Emma. “Each day so far she’s worn something different in a different color. We’ve started keeping a scorecard. She knows lots of spells too.”

They entered the Great Hall and the girls split off to sit at the Hufflepuff table next to Keesha, who waved at Harry; he sat down with Ginny at the Gryffindor table. Dennis Creevey and a few others wanted to know about the training program, and Harry started describing his classes. Ginny listened for a few minutes, but soon the subject of the Quidditch team came up with Meeta and Demelza. Then someone said that they had heard about the upcoming trial of the four Slytherins, and everyone looked at Ginny.

“I heard about it too,” Harry said to her. “All the trainees will be there. How do you feel about it?”

“Nervous. I guess it’s no secret that the three of us caught them, but now it’ll be all over the _Prophet_ again. I don’t much like the idea of being a target for their friends.”

“Well, there’s already three Aurors stationed up here. But if something happens, or even if it just looks like something will happen, I’ll be here. And,” he lowered his voice, “you have the ring.”

Ginny looked around; several students were leaning towards them, trying to hear. “Let’s talk about it later,” she muttered, and started eating again.

As soon as they could, Harry and Ginny left the Great Hall. “I need to tell you lots, anyway,” he said as they walked towards the marble staircase.

“Let’s duck into a classroom,” Ginny suggested. “We’ll have more privacy.”

They went into a room on the third floor, apparently not used very often, judging by the layer of dust on the floor. The ceiling was painted black and was covered with tiny dots of light that slowly moved in giant circles from one side of the room to the other.

“It looks like an old Astronomy classroom,” Harry said, looking up. “There’s Orion, and the Dog Star. I was never in here, were you?”

“No. It’s nice, though. You can study the stars without going outside.”

Harry cleaned the dust off two chairs and they sat. He told her everything that had happened that week—their tryst on Monday night had been completely taken up with other matters—and Ginny laughed at his description of Mundungus Fletcher’s infatuation with her.

“He’s like a naughty puppy. He can’t help messing on the floor, and he’s always sorry afterwards. At least if he’s caught he’s sorry.”

“I don’t like the business with the Darkness Powder,” Harry said. “There’s almost a hundred pounds of it somewhere near Hogsmeade. That’s enough to blot out the whole village for a week. They’re going to use it sometime, and it won’t be funny when they do.”

Ginny was silent; she extended her hand and he took it. “Promise you’ll come if anything happens,” she said. “I don’t care where you are or what you’re doing. Promise.”

“I’ll be here. You wrote that McGonagall was thinking about sealing the grounds, and if she does . . .”

“Then I’ll get out somehow.”

They didn’t speak for a few moments. Finally Harry said, “The other students are going to help me catch up. I think Ron organized it. He already lined up the Patils to help me with Investigations. And Saliyah hinted that we might take a trip to France. She admitted that Umbridge disappeared, and she wants to see for herself what went on over there.”

“That’s wonderful, Harry! You’ll get to travel. The last time I went anywhere was to Egypt. Maybe someday we can travel together.”

They talked for another half hour, but they both had heavy loads of homework, so Harry took Ginny back to the common room, and from there escorted her to the library with all her books and parchments. He left after a nice goodbye snog.

He got to bed a little earlier than the previous two nights, and the next two days at the Ministry went well. Parvati and Padma took turns, one on Thursday and the other on Friday, helping him with some of the concepts he was having trouble with in Investigations, and by the end of his first week, although tired, Harry knew that he could do it, especially with all the help he was going to get.

On Friday afternoon, instead of each student and mentor meeting separately, everyone gathered in the common room and, while tea and biscuits were served, Saliyah told them what they could expect at the trial on Monday.

“It’s going to be very tense,” she said, “because they could be sentenced to long terms in Azkaban. If they were only a few years older, that would be the likely outcome, in my opinion. But they were students when they committed the crime, and if they confess that someone put them up to it and if they name that person or persons, they’ll get off easier, at least without having to do time in Azkaban.”

Ernie Macmillan raised his hand. “That’s certainly a great incentive to confess, but isn’t there a bigger incentive to remain silent? If they go to prison, at least they’ll live. If they name someone, they could be assassinated.”

“They’ll get protection, but unfortunately you are right, Mr. Macmillan; that’s certainly a factor. On the other hand, if they name names, it might make it easier for us to find a potential assassin.” She looked around. “Any other questions? No? Then I have one. Who here has ever witnessed a trial by the Wizengamot?”

Harry slowly raised his hand; no one else did. He suspected that Saliyah knew he was the only one, and wondered at her motive.

“Would you mind sharing your experience with the rest of us, Mr. Potter?”

Harry glanced at Ron, who was sitting next to him; his friend nodded, as if to say that he also knew it was a setup. Harry smiled wryly and stood.

“I saw one trial and was the accused in another one,” he began, and noticed surprise on Saliyah’s face; she probably didn’t know about his use of Albus Dumbledore’s Pensieve during the Triwizard Tournament. “The one I saw actually wasn’t real, it was a memory of Professor Dumbledore’s. In the other one I was accused of performing underage magic. Cornelius Fudge was trying to railroad me in order to get at Dumbledore.” He glanced at Saliyah, who just looked back at him.

“Luckily for me,” Harry continued, “Dumbledore showed up, otherwise I would have been kicked out of Hogwarts. I had no idea what to do or say. Fudge and Umbridge had set me up. He kept on hammering me, until Dumbledore surprised him with a witness who backed up my story. Then they voted, and I was acquitted.”

He looked at Saliyah again. “Go on,” she said. “What was it like? What did you think about it afterwards, I mean about the Wizengamot, not your particular trial?”

“I thought they were pretty fair, aside from Fudge and Umbridge. As soon as they realized that the witness was telling the truth, they turned against Fudge. Before that, I think they were ready to convict me.”

“Thank you, Mr. Potter.” Harry sat down and looked at Ron again; he shrugged, this time as if to say he had no idea why she had done it.

Saliyah noticed the exchange between Harry and Ron. “I had a reason for inducing Mr. Potter to speak,” she said. “It has very much to do with why you are all here. In the past, the Wizengamot has been used for selfish political reasons, as it was in Harry’s case. But in the end, Harry was acquitted; justice prevailed. You all heard Minister Shacklebolt eulogize at one or another of the funerals last spring, and you were all in this room last fall when the program started and he spoke directly to you. He talked about justice.”

She paused, and the pause grew longer. Finally Harry spoke. “I wasn’t here last fall, but I heard him at two different funerals. When I was framed for doing underage magic, it was one of the worst things I ever went through. It was just so unfair. Even though I had lots of friends who were willing to help me, I still felt helpless.”

People were watching him, some with simple curiosity, but others nodded. Harry looked at Saliyah; she had a small twinkle in her eye and gave him a tiny nod.

There were questions for Harry, Saliyah, and the other professors. Warren Anderbis, the Law For Aurors instructor, told them how the trial would proceed. By then it was five o’clock and the meeting broke up; Harry declined several invitations to have a drink at the Leaky Cauldron, and ten minutes later he was in his parlor with Ginny in his arms, and thirty seconds after that they were in bed.

Afterwards, as they held each other and talked, Harry could tell that Ginny was still nervous about the trial. She felt intimidated by the prospect of facing all those old and powerful wizards and witches, and didn’t like the idea of having her photograph in the _Daily Prophet_ , or gossip columnists writing about her love life.

“At least you’ll be there,” she said later that night as they sat in front of the fire wrapped in a blanket Harry had taken from the bed. It had gotten colder outside and was starting to snow; Ginny wanted the comfort of being bundled up and snuggled next to her sweetie, rather than using a warming spell. “We’ll get to see each other.”

“Yes, I’ll be there,” Harry said softly, nuzzling her ear. “So will Ron and Percy. And Kingsley is running it. He won’t let anyone intimidate you.”

“I still don’t like it. Jace and those other gits will be there. What about their parents? Are they allowed in?”

“I don’t know.” He pulled her closer and wrapped more blankets around them. He wanted to chase away her fears, and he was angry because he knew that they were reasonable fears. Being stared at by dozens of imposing people _was_ unsettling; he knew it from personal experience. She might be asked uncomfortable questions, such as why was she in the corridor outside the Hufflepuff common room in the first place. And there was nothing Harry hated more than seeing his name in the newspapers; now, he probably would see Ginny’s name blazoned across a headline, and he knew he would hate that too.

“I’ll be there,” he whispered again, and Ginny drew the blanket up so that they were completely cocooned and held herself close to him.

They decided to do all their studying on Saturday so they could relax on Sunday. They debated whether it would be too distracting if they studied together, but decided to give it a go, so the next morning Harry gathered up the books and supplies he needed and Floo’d back to Hogwarts with Ginny. They spent the entire day holed up in the library, taking up an entire table with their Potions, Arithmancy, Transfiguration, Evidence Analysis, and Investigations textbooks spread out together, along with rolls of parchments, ink pots, and quills.

It worked well because they didn’t miss each other. It seemed to Harry, who hadn’t had to do this much school work in a long time, that being with Ginny actually helped him concentrate. Whenever he needed a break, he just had to raise his head and there was his beloved sitting across the table, bent over a parchment or a book, her beautiful hair tied back in a long ponytail with a blue ribbon, her left hand with her ruby ring resting on the table. She would look up and smile at him, her eyes sparkling, and Harry would go back to work.

Once, when he had finally finished a long parchment summarizing the two-dozen-odd steps in an analysis procedure, he put his quill down, stretched, got up and walked around the table. He took a comb from Ginny’s book bag, untied the ribbon, and started combing her hair. She leaned back and closed her eyes, a beatific smile on her face.  He wordlessly combed for five minutes and sat down again. As he looked across the table into her shining eyes, he was suddenly looking back at himself from the other side of the table. He felt the quill in her fingers, the snugness of the ring, and the cool silkiness of her hair cascading against the back of her neck.

A heat and a yearning rose from her loins into her breasts and her lips.

For a moment Harry did not want to acknowledge what the sensations were. He blinked, and found himself staring across the table at Ginny, who now had a wide-eyed grin on her face. He felt himself flush and coughed into his fist, startled and a little embarrassed by the intimacy they had just shared. But Ginny reached across and he took her hand and held it tightly; he had never loved her more than at that moment.

They went back to work. At first Harry was afraid that the erotic episode would make it impossible for him to concentrate, but after a few minutes he found that his mind was clearer than ever, and the problem he was struggling over in _Hidden Herbs, Surreptitious Spells, and Sub-rosa Substances_ had suddenly become trivial. He glanced up at Ginny; she was bent over a parchment once again, and he smiled to himself and went on to the next chapter.

They ate dinner in the inn’s dining room with Neville, Keesha, and Luna, who had trudged through six inches of snow to get there; all three girls had been summoned to the trial, so they had decided to get together and talk about it. Ginny was nervous, Keesha was defiant—“string the bastards up” was how she put it—and no one could tell how Luna felt. Neville was not allowed into the trial, but Harry said that if he waited outside the courtroom someplace he would find him when it was all over, unless Keesha found him first. When they finished eating, Neville, Keesha, and Luna Floo’d back to Hogwarts from Harry’s fireplace.

Ginny didn’t sleep well that night, and when they got up Sunday morning Harry suggested spending the day with Ron and Hermione. Ginny wasn’t sure how relaxing that would be, but at least it would be a distraction. And it did turn out to be diverting. They arrived before breakfast to find Hermione up but Ron still asleep; Ginny took an empty teacup and went to wake him. She came back into the small sitting room without the teacup and grinning.

“Elementary first-year Transfiguration,” she said. “Teacup to mouse and back to teacup. He’ll be here momentarily.”

Ron came in holding the teacup and looking grumpy; his scowl deepened when Ginny offered to pour him some tea. “You’re a menace, witch,” he said as he fell into a chair. “Harry, you’d better watch yourself with this one. You’ll wake up one morning with a Skrewt inside your pants.” Harry quickly crossed his legs.

Ginny and Hermione went into the kitchen to make breakfast, while Harry and a yawning Ron talked about the trial; Harry was stroking Crookshanks who had jumped into his lap.

“Ginny’s upset,” he said. “Back when I had my hearing, I think she was almost as traumatized as I was, and she’s nervous about what kind of reception she’ll get tomorrow. But she’s also worried about the newspapers. They haven’t bothered her yet, but they’re bound to come after her now. I wish I could make them leave her alone.”

“It will be a problem,” Ron agreed. “And I doubt there’s much you can do but wait it out. She’ll be a hot topic because of you, at least until something else pushes the trial off the front page.”

“You think it’ll be front page?”

“Think about it. Young defendants, a couple of them from prominent Death Eater families; little children being Cursed; and they’re rescued by Harry Potter’s girlfriend. It’s good enough to be a Muggle movie.”

Hermione had come back from the kitchen and was listening. Before Harry could answer she said, “Breakfast is ready, but can we talk about something else? Ginny needs something to distract her.”

“Do you have more teacups?” Harry wondered as they entered the kitchen. Ron just shook his head and followed them.

Harry went right to Ginny. “You need a hug,” he said and wrapped her in his arms. Ginny leaned against him and sighed.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was muffled in his jumper. “I’m being silly.”

“No.” Harry let his fingers run through her hair. “You’re not silly at all. Come on,” he lifted her chin and kissed her. “Eat, and then we’ll do something fun.”

Breakfast was eggs and sausage, and Ginny had cheered up by the time they walked out of the flat into Diagon Alley. “I just thought of something,” Harry said. “I could use a table for the parlor. I’ve had to sit on the floor to do my homework because the kitchen table is too small.”

Ginny took his arm and smiled. “Now I’m definitely feeling better. Why didn’t you tell me you wanted to shop?”

It was starting to snow again as they walked down to Hippolite’s Home Furnishings, where Harry and Ginny had bought furniture for the flat last summer. They found a magical table that adjusted to whatever size you wanted when you tapped your wand on the picture of a blowfish engraved in the center. As the table grew in size, the blowfish expanded, and when the table contracted, it shrank.

“Perfect!” Harry said to Ginny as they left. “Now you can do your homework there too.”

She was on his arm again, and the four of them sauntered along through the snowflakes, looking in shop windows and browsing at the few vendor carts that were out. They walked until they reached the wall at the Leaky Cauldron and turned back. The snow was coming down harder, and they pulled their hoods over their heads. The wind had also picked up, swirling the snowflakes and billowing their cloaks as they hurried along through the almost empty street.

Gringotts loomed ahead, and the entrance to Knockturn Alley. As they approached the Alley, a solitary figure emerged from it and started to walk briskly towards them. A gust of wind blew back the person’s hood, and as her hand came up to pull it back over her head, the foursome were even with her and they all looked up at the same time, then halted in astonishment. Pansy Parkinson glared back, drew her hood quickly over her face, and started running towards the Leaky Cauldron.

Ginny hissed and pulled out her wand, but Harry and Ron both grabbed her.

“No!” Harry said. “It’s over. Let her go.”

Ginny turned back and looked at him. “You’re right, but what was she doing here?”

“What are _we_ doing here?” said Ron. “It’s Diagon Alley, everyone comes here.”

“On a Sunday morning in a snowstorm? And she was in Knockturn Alley, not Diagon Alley.”

“Let’s stop in Flourish and Blotts,” Hermione said suddenly. “I just thought of something.” The others looked at each other, and went after her; she had already started back the other way. Pansy was gone, and in a moment they were inside the cozy warmth of the book store.

Different witches greeted Hermione, but she got the same VIP treatment as she had the last time, and soon she was seated in a chair flipping through a thick volume that one of the clerks retrieved. Harry, Ginny, and Ron watched, and in a moment Hermione’s face lit up.

“I thought so. Look.” She held up the book with her finger pointing to a line on a page. “And look here.” She flipped a few pages, pointed to another line, and looked at them triumphantly.

“Hermione,” Ron said, “what the hell are you talking about? Speak so that mere mortals can understand.”

“They’re neighbors, Ron. Pansy Parkinson and Abigail Abernathy lived on the same road in Dringhouses.” She waved the volume at them and they could see the title, _Stretz’s Street Directory Of The Wizarding Families Of Britain_.

“How on earth did you remember that?” Ron asked.

“Last fall when we were trying to locate Turquoise’s house, you mentioned that Pansy had family in Dringhouses. The next time I was in here, I looked it up and checked out the names of other wizarding families who lived nearby. It was rather trivial, actually.”

“I’m sure.” Ron looked at Harry. “What do you think, mate? I don’t think you’ve read the chapter about so-called coincidences in the Investigations book yet.”

Harry thought for a moment. “Well, even if—”

“Wait!” said Ginny, glancing at the three clerks standing nearby. “Let’s not talk about it here.”

Ron looked at her appreciatively. “You’re right, Sis. You are forgiven the mouse.”

They hurried back to the flat. Hermione brewed a pot of tea and Ron retrieved a tin of biscuits from the pantry as they settled around the kitchen table. Harry took up his thought.

“Even if they knew each other, they’re seven years apart in age. It isn’t likely that they were friends.”

“What does that matter?” said Hermione. “Pansy must have known her. She’s bound to be upset by what happened.”

“I dispute that. She’s a selfish bitch. All she ever cared about was getting Draco to notice her. I saw her do it. She’s pathetic.”

“You’re understandably prejudiced,” Hermione said. “But if she knew Abigail as a child, maybe she does feel some compassion.”

Harry shook his head. “Abigail is a blood traitor, as far as Pansy is concerned. She probably wishes Jace had killed her.”

“That’s over the top, mate,” Ron cut in. “I agree with Hermione, you’re not being rational about her. I’m not saying she’s in love with Abigail, but there is a connection between them, and you can’t just dismiss it.”

Harry stared at the tabletop with a sour look. “Then what was she doing in Knockturn Alley? I don’t think she was shopping for snow booties.”

“That’s a good question,” Ron said, “but what does that have to do with her connection to Abigail Abernathy?”

“All right, I don’t know. I’m just saying that if she was nosing around Knockturn Alley it means that she’s still playing around with the Dark side.”

“Harry’s right,” said Ginny. “She was up to no good. Two-faced ugly bitch,” she added.

“Tea, anyone?” Hermione smiled brightly and started pouring. “And why don’t we go out for lunch? They just opened a new Indian restaurant near Euston Station, and we haven’t tried it yet.”

They dropped the discussion about Pansy and soon left for the restaurant. It was still snowing but the wind had died down, so they walked a dozen blocks and had an enjoyable lunch. Harry watched Ginny and he could tell that she was more relaxed as she told Hermione about Madame Maxime, while Harry and Ron talked about Harry’s first week in the Auror program. They took a cab back to the Leaky Cauldron; Ginny said she wanted to go back to Hogsmeade, so they said goodbye and returned to the flat.

The new table was there when they stepped out of the fireplace. Harry moved it around the room while Ginny considered each spot, and she finally decided to put it next to the casement window near McPherson’s perch. Harry built up a fire and they snuggled on the love seat. “How are you doing?” he asked.

Ginny was silent for a moment. “I’d just like it to be over. I wonder what Pansy was doing there?”

Harry grunted. “Probably nothing that has to do with anything. She can’t touch us here, if that’s what you were thinking.” He held her tighter and she climbed into his lap.

“I don’t care,” she murmured. “I just want to be here with you. I’m getting tired of school. Once my big projects are done, things will start to wind down. I can’t wait.”

Harry looked at her, surprised. “There’s still Quidditch.”

Ginny grinned and nodded; her mood had instantly changed. “I can’t wait for that.” She sat up, still in his lap. “Can you come to our Saturday practices? I think we can start in about six weeks, maybe sooner if the weather’s good. I’ve been planning some new offensive schemes. Do you remember that book I got about the Harpies? It’s so cool! They do this crossing maneuver, and they pass the Quaffle three or four times while they’re doing it, and sometimes the Keeper doesn’t even know who has the ball. I think Demelza and Meeta can do it with some practice. And there’s another formation they use if the other team pulls a Chaser back to help on defense, where one of the Harpies Chasers passes the Quaffle backward and then flies straight at the opponent’s Chaser. Since they’re not used to it, they almost always bail out, and there’s an open path right to the goal!”

She continued a non-stop rush of Quidditch talk, and Harry leaned back and listened with a grin on his face. Ginny’s eyes were alight, her hands described players’ movements; her whole body swayed and turned as she depicted each maneuver. Suddenly she stopped, looked at him and, laughing, put her arms around his neck.

“Listen to me babble. I guess all I want is to be with you _and_ play Quidditch.”

“Both of those are fine with me.”

“Mmm. And right now I’m with you, so . . .”

The snowstorm’s clouds, dark and heavy, had brought an early dusk to the north country. Harry went down to the inn’s kitchen and came back with a tray of sandwiches which he left in the upstairs kitchen. Ginny was already in bed with the veela candles burning. Harry tried to pull the covers down when he got into bed, but she shrieked and yanked them back, then giggled and pulled him in.

“Warm me up,” she whispered, and they spent the rest of the afternoon and evening loving each other. Harry made occasional trips to the kitchen to get food, and just before nine o’clock they Floo’d back to the Gryffindor common room and said goodbye until tomorrow.


	39. The Trail of the Flower

Harry looked around the courtroom as he entered with the other trainees. It had not changed since he had last been there more than three years ago. The single wooden chair with chains attached to the arms stood in the center of the floor; the dark stone walls seemed to loom over the chamber, almost as if threatening to come crashing down on the head of the unfortunate occupant of the chair should he be found guilty. Flaring torches gave only dim and shadowy illumination.

The students and faculty of the training program, about two dozen in all, filed into rows of benches to the left; Harry sat in the top row between Ron and Seamus. The members of the Wizengamot wearing their plum-colored robes were already seated in their benches across from the students and to their right. There were over a hundred of them, occupying one whole end of the chamber in a u-shaped area. It was difficult to see some of them, but Harry did recognize the two Warlocks who had been in McGonagall’s office the day after the attack. He also saw a few others who he knew from around the Ministry.

Sitting in front and facing the wooden chair, in the same place Cornelius Fudge had occupied at Harry’s hearing, sat Kingsley Shacklebolt, and on his left was Saliyah Ushujaa, both in plum robes. The Minister’s lips were a tight line, and his Head Auror wore a slight frown; it seemed to Harry that there was tension between them.

Harry’s eyes traveled down the front row of Warlocks, and he almost laughed out loud when he saw Percy, with a large roll of parchment and poised quill, stiff and self-important, sitting exactly where he had been for Harry’s hearing. Harry smiled to himself; some things never changed.

He continued to look around, and was a little surprised that the room was still so grim and forbidding. He had assumed, apparently incorrectly, that Kingsley’s more humane and open approach to things would have resulted in a less intimidating setting for a trial.

A door across the way opened and the four former Slytherins entered, each accompanied by an Auror. Harry tried to study their faces in the dim light, but their heads were down. They wore simple robes, and each had a black bracelet on his right arm: magical restraints, Harry supposed.

The four and their Auror guards sat on a bench directly across from the trainees. Harry could now see that Serpens Lestrange’s escort was Morequest Pester, and he nudged Ron, who chuckled under his breath. “What a comedown,” he said. “Pulling guard duty.”

The prisoners peered around and Harry finally got a good look at them. They all had sullen looks, but Serpens was also defiant; he glared at the Wizengamot, and started scanning the faces of the trainees sitting across from him. When his eyes met Harry’s, a look of hatred, visible even in the gloomy light, flickered across his face. It startled Harry, and he momentarily shifted his eyes. Serpens leered then, but when Harry focused on Serpens’ eyes again, they moved. They suddenly narrowed, and as Ron tensed, Harry realized that Serpens’ hate-filled gaze was now fixed on his mate, and with a chill Harry knew that it was because of Ginny.

Ron knew too. “The little bastard better hope he ends up in jail,” he muttered quietly. “He knows who put that Turntongue in the PV, and if I ever get my hands on him I’ll turn him inside out and roast his guts over a slow fire.”

The image made Harry feel slightly queasy. He answered Ron with a grunt and looked back at the Wizengamot. They were all quite still, and Kingsley and Saliyah were now sitting erect; Percy was leaning forward. At that moment the door to the corridor opened and a female Auror entered, followed by Ginny, Keesha, and Luna; another Auror came after.

There was movement on the bench across from Harry; his eyes had been fixed on Ginny, but when he looked up, he saw that Serpens had gone rigid, and Pester was gripping his prisoner’s bracelet and pulling him back onto the bench.

Harry half-rose out of his seat, his hand on his wand. Ron and Seamus both pulled him down. “Easy, mate,” Ron said softly. “It’s under control.” Harry sat, but was breathing between clenched teeth.

Suddenly the booming voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt filled the room.

“The prisoners are warned to remain seated until called!” He was standing, glaring at Serpens. “If you cause a disruption, you will be silenced and bound. Is that clear?”

Whatever power the magical bracelets had, they did not prevent their wearers from speaking. “It’s a sham!” Serpens shouted. “You’re a pathetic joke! The Dark Lord will be avenged, and all those who opposed him will be dead, including redhead whores!”

“Silence!!” Kingsley roared, easily drowning out Serpens. “Mr. Pester, if Mr. Lestrange utters another sound, you are instructed to Silence him.”

Pester glared at his prisoner and jerked his arm. It released Serpens from the spell that had made him go rigid, and he snatched his wrist from Pester’s grip. He crossed his arms on his chest and glared venomously at the Minister.

Harry, with his jaws still clenched and his hand on his wand, looked back at Ginny. The three girls and their escorts had stopped at Lestrange’s outburst, but now they took seats at the far end of the chamber to Harry’s left, facing the Wizengamot. He clearly saw the blazing look on Ginny’s face as she stared at Serpens. She suddenly turned to look at Harry, and it changed to a smile. He waved, and she waved back.

Kingsley cleared his throat, and Harry’s face turned red when he realized that everyone in the entire courtroom was looking at either him or Ginny. He heard Ron’s soft chuckle and felt the glower from Saliyah, but he knew that whatever nervousness Ginny felt had evaporated.

Kingsley banged his gavel. “This trial is now begun,” his voice boomed. “Jace Kleinhead, Serpens Lestrange, Tiberius Rookwood, and Olbert Schmidt are charged with physically beating three students in the cellar of Hogwarts Castle on November 22, 1998. In addition, Serpens Lestrange and Jace Kleinhead are charged with using the Cruciatus Curse on at least one of the students. The three victims will not be named here.” He looked to his right, and Harry noticed for the first time the reporter who had visited the inn in November, sitting at the other end of the first row. The reporter nodded, and Kingsley turned back to the chamber.

“Miss Ginny Weasley!” he called. Ginny rose, smiled up at Harry, and sat in the wooden chair facing the Wizengamot. “Are you Ginevra Molly Weasley?” Kingsley asked.

“No one calls me that, but yes, I am,” Ginny said clearly and loudly.

A quick smile crossed Kingsley’s face. “Please tell us what you saw in the basement of Hogwarts Castle on the night in question.”

Ginny described what she had seen when she, Luna, and Keesha had come around the corner of the corridor past the kitchen. Kingsley nodded.

“Did you hear any one of the accused use an Unforgivable Curse?”

“Yes. One of them used a Cruciatus, I think it was on—” She stopped. “I mean, yes, I definitely heard it, and I saw one of the—the victims start to twist, like he was in pain.”

“What happened next?”

“We started casting Stunning spells. Then one of them pointed his wand at the kids—”

“The who?” a voice came from behind Kingsley; it was impossible to see who had spoken from the shadows.

“The victims,” Ginny said loudly. “They were lying on the floor, and when one of those gits pointed his wand at them, I cast a Shield Charm over them.”

“Go on,” Kingsley said.

“Well, we Stunned all of them. The kids were in pretty bad shape, so we sent for Madam Pomfrey—”

“The school nurse?” the voice asked.

“That’s right,” Ginny said. “We sent for her.”

Other Warlocks had a few more questions, and when Ginny rose out of the chair she smiled at Harry again. But as she walked back to the bench where Keesha and Luna were sitting, Serpens’ head turned as he watched her. He looked up at Harry and leered again; Harry swore under his breath and again put his hand on his wand.

But Ginny had also noticed. Her eyes blazed at Serpens until he looked at her, but he could not stand the contact and turned away. Ginny, however, did not look away; he glanced back, scowled at the floor, and kept his head down.

“That’s my Ginny,” Ron said quietly.

Harry said nothing; he was trembling with anger, his breath coming in short gasps, and both Ron and Seamus turned to him. Ron took his arm, but Harry threw it off.

“I’ve used a Cruciatus,” he muttered, “and if anything happens to Ginny I’ll use it on him.” He was leaning forward, and Ron and Seamus exchanged glances behind his back.

“He’s going to prison, mate,” Ron said, putting his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Calm down, calm down.”

Harry scowled, but just then Professor Remington, sitting at the end of their row, made a loud shushing sound. Harry sat back, and suddenly was aware of Ginny; she was peering up at him, slowly shaking her head.

He knew she had felt his fierce and violent anger. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths; small hands were on his chest and a whiff of flowery fragrance filled his lungs. He was no longer trembling. He opened his eyes and glanced down; Ginny was still peering at him, but now with a soft smile.

Keesha was already in the wooden chair and was being questioned by Saliyah. She told the same tale as Ginny, except that she was certain that the Cruciatus Curse they saw had been cast by Serpens Lestrange.

As she walked back to the witness bench, she suddenly swerved towards the prisoners. The guards were startled and one of them raised his wand, but the four prisoners shrank back. She said something to Jace Kleinhead that made him flinch and his guard spring up. Keesha went quickly back to her seat. She had a satisfied look, and Ginny squeezed her shoulders.

“That was interesting,” Ron whispered to Harry. “What do you think she said?”

“I think she told him she’ll cut out his stones the next time she sees him.”

Ron chortled, “I wouldn’t be surprised if she came up empty.” He paused while they watched Luna walk slowly to the wooden chair. “This ought to be worth the price of admission,” he said.

Luna gazed around the chamber as she sat but, once in the chair, picked up the chains attached to the arms and examined them. After a few seconds she put them down and stared trance-like at the Wizengamot; they all seemed to be mesmerized by her dreamy, unblinking eyes, even Kingsley. Finally he cleared his throat.

“You are Miss Luna Lovegood?”

Luna just sat there, looking at him. After a moment, Saliyah leaned forward. “Is your name Luna Lovegood?”

“Yes.”

Saliyah glanced at Kingsley, who shrugged and nodded to her. Saliyah continued. “Can you tell us what happened in the Hogwarts cellar that evening?”

“No.”

There was a puzzled silence in the chamber. Serpens Lestrange guffawed, but fell silent when Morequest Pester glared at him.

A Warlock sitting in the second row behind Kingsley spoke. “Miss Lovegood, I don’t understand. Weren’t you there?”

“Where?”

“In the cellars, when the young students were attacked.” He sounded irritated.

“Of course I was there. That’s why I’m here.”

“Then why can’t you tell us what you saw?”

Luna looked at him almost pityingly. “I can tell you what I saw, but I was only at one place, so I don’t know what happened in other parts of the cellar, or the castle, or the Ministry of Magic, or—”

“That’s fine!” Saliyah said, her hand covering her eyes for a moment. “Please just tell us what you saw in the cellar of Hogwarts on the evening of Sunday, November twenty-second, nineteen ninety-eight.”

“Well, first I saw Keesha when she and Ginny came out of the Hufflepuff common room—”

“No, no,” the Warlock in the second row said in a loud, impatient voice, “what did you see of the attack?”

Saliyah turned around. “Mr. Dancepit, would you mind letting Miss Lovegood give her testimony? She’s about to get to that, I believe.”

“I was just—”

Kingsley put up his hand, “Morley, just let her talk, if you don’t mind.”

“I just wanted her to get to the point. She’s clearly as daft as her father. We’ll be here all day if you let her go on like that.”

“My daddy is not daft,” Luna said loudly. “I don’t like what you just said.”

There were murmurs and some laughter from the Wizengamot; Kingsley put up both hands. “People, please,” he boomed, then glared at the Warlock, and turned back to Luna. “Miss Lovegood, will you kindly continue, and remember that we’re talking about the attack in the cellars.”

“I do remember,” Luna said. “It’s very clear in my memory.”

“Good. Please continue.”

Up where the trainees were sitting, Ron was not the only one trying to keep from laughing out loud; Harry was also grinning. “This isn’t a bad way to spend a morning,” he said, and Ron started coughing to cover up his laughter. Luna looked at them and smiled. When she turned back to the Wizengamot, she kept the smile and stared at Kingsley. Another moment passed, and he began to look exasperated.

“Miss Lovegood, we were asking you to kindly describe what you saw. I mean, in the cellar. I mean, concerning the attack.”

Luna came out of her trance. “I’m sorry, sir, I was just thinking about my friends.”

Kingsley shot an annoyed look in Ron’s direction, and gestured to Luna. “If you please.”

“We were standing outside the Hufflepuff common room,” she began, but the same wizard interrupted her again.

“What were you doing there?” he asked. “Wasn’t it after hours? Shouldn’t you and Miss Weasley have been in your own common rooms?”

“It was after hours,” Luna said brightly as Kingsley rolled his eyes. “Ginny wanted to show us her ring. She and Harry had just got engaged. It’s a beautiful ring, with three big rubies and several diamond chips. It’s at least eighteen carat—”

“Miss Lovegood!” Kingsley said with some force. “Please! Can you stick to the subject, which is—”

“I know what the subject is,” Luna said firmly. “ _He_ wasn’t sticking to it.” She pointed to the wizard.

Kingsley whirled on the man. “And you will also stick to the subject, Mr. Dancepit!” He turned back and paused. Harry could swear the Minister was counting slowly to ten to himself; next to him, Saliyah was sitting back with her arms folded, wearing an amused expression. Kingsley took a breath and nodded to Luna.

“We heard a noise,” she continued, “and we followed it until we saw the four boys standing and the three first-years lying on the floor. Serpens Lestrange used a Cruciatus Curse on one of the young ones. Ginny fired a spell that hit Jace Kleinhead in the head and he went flying up in the air. He hit his head on the ceiling and it made a very satisfying sound.” She paused as several Warlocks laughed and whispered to each other; Kingsley glanced around and the whispers stopped.

Luna went on. “We ran closer to the boys and one of us, I don’t know who, hit Tiberius Rookwood. Then Serpens Lestrange pointed his wand at the ones on the ground. Ginny put up a Shield Charm to protect them, and Keesha hit Serpens with a spell and he got slammed against the wall. That was very satisfying too. The last one, Olbert Schmidt, started running away, but I got him in the back. I thought it was a pretty good shot.”

She stopped and started examining the chains again. As everyone in the chamber watched, she wrapped one of them around her right wrist and yanked her arm, as though testing the chain. She put her arm down and looked at Kingsley. “Do you want me to tell you anything else?”

Kingsley sighed. “No, thank you Miss Lovegood, that will be all.”

Luna carefully set the chain down on the arm of the chair and walked back to her seat. As she passed the prisoners, Serpens lunged out of his chair.

“Freak!” he screamed, and spat at her. The spittle missed, and Morequest Pester sprang up with his wand out; a white spell shot from it and Serpens slumped to the floor at Luna’s feet. As the Auror bent over him, she also bent down and pushed Serpens’ head back so that his eyes were staring up at her; his mouth worked but no sound came out.

Luna said in a clear voice, “I was locked up for months in a cellar by your Voldemort, and I didn’t know if I would ever get out. Now you’ll be locked up just like I was, and I think you’ll be there for a very long time. I may be a freak, but my freaky mind is still intact. I wonder if you’ll be able to say that when you get out.”

She walked back to her seat; no one spoke, but Ginny and Keesha both stood and hugged her.

“That’s one helluva girl,” said Ron. He didn’t say it loudly, but it could be heard by everyone. Kingsley glowered up at him and banged his gavel.

“A short recess! Mr. Pester, please Bind and Silence your prisoner.” He beckoned to Saliyah and Percy, and they followed him out through the door to the corridor; the rest of the Wizengamot sat back in their seats and began talking amongst themselves. Pester released Serpens from his spell and hauled him up; the guards and prisoners filed out the door they had entered. The trainees also began stirring and talking to each other.

Harry stood and started walking down his row, but Professor Remington stopped him when he got to the end. “You can’t speak to the witnesses right now, Mr. Potter. You’ll have to wait until it’s over.” She motioned him back to his seat; he returned and sat, then looked at Ginny. She was smiling and blew him a kiss, and mouthed, “I love you,” and Harry grinned back.

“Pretty good show,” Ron remarked. “I’ll bet that’s the last time Luna gets called to testify, as long as Kingsley is Minister for Magic.”

“That Serpens is the lunatic,” Harry said. “It must run in the family.”

“Bella was a Black. I think this one’s pure Lestrange. Either way, he’s a piece of work.”

Fifteen minutes later Percy came back and spoke to the three witnesses. As they stood, Ginny waved to Harry and Ron, and they left. Percy went back to his seat and in a moment Professor McGonagall, Madam Pomfrey, and a witch Harry didn’t know came in, followed by Kingsley and Saliyah.

“She’s a wand specialist in the Department,” Ron whispered to Harry. “She probably did a Prior Incantato on their wands. That ought to nail their asses.”

The prisoners were brought back—Serpens, looking angrier than ever, was now bound by magical ropes—and the trial continued. Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey testified about what they had seen and done during the evening of the attack, and the nurse described the children’s’ injuries. The third witness, the witch from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, brought out four wands from a wooden box she was carrying, identified each wand, and said that two of them had been used to produce Cruciatus Curses shortly before their owners had dropped them. Those two wands belonged to Jace Kleinhead and Serpens Lestrange.

The three witnesses left the chamber and Olbert Schmidt was brought to the chair. As soon as he sat, the chains wrapped themselves tightly around his arms. He was visibly trembling, and looked terrified. He cringed when Kingsley addressed him.

“Mr. Schmidt, do you deny the charges against you?” Olbert shook his head. “Speak!” Kingsley demanded. “The crimes are serious. You could end up in prison for years. Do you deny the charges?”

“No, sir,” Olbert said in a low, hoarse voice; he did not look at the Minister.

“Why did you do it? Why did you beat and torture eleven-year-old children?”

Olbert was silent; his head was bowed almost to his lap. He began to sob. Kingsley waited, but the boy did not speak.

“Do you have anything to say in your defense?” Kingsley continued. Once again Olbert was silent.

“Did someone tell you to commit these crimes? Did they have anything to do with the attempted poisoning of Mr. Harry Potter by Turntongue?”

Olbert glanced up for a moment and nodded.

“Speak!” Kingsley’s voice shook the room.

“Yes,” Olbert whispered so quietly that he could barely be heard. Saliyah gave the Minister a charged look; he ignored her.

“Boy!” a witch in the third row called; Olbert raised his head. “Who put you up to it? You must have done it for some reason, or are the lot of you simply sadistic bullies?”

He bowed his head again and shook it. “I—I can’t tell you,” he said a little more loudly this time. “I don’t know. I—I’m sorry.”

“Well, that’s something, at least,” the witch said, sitting back.

Kingsley looked at Olbert thoughtfully. “You may return to your seat, Mr. Schmidt. Mr. Tiberius Rookwood, please.”

The chains on the chair fell aside and Olbert was led away by his guard. Tiberius took his place and once again the chains rattled loudly as they wrapped themselves around his arms; the sounds echoed through the chamber. This interrogation went the same as the previous one; he did not know who had ordered the beatings, but he said he was sorry.

Jace Kleinhead was seated next. His demeanor was sullen but not frightened, as Tiberius and Olbert’s had been, and he did not bow his head. He stared at Kingsley and refused to answer any questions, not even acknowledging his name. After ten minutes of futile questioning, the witch in the third row cleared her throat.

“Minister,” she said, “isn’t it time for Veritaserum?” Several other witches and wizards nodded in agreement. Saliyah looked at Kingsley with arched eyebrows; the tension between them had returned.

The Minister looked over his shoulder at the witch who had spoken. “I do not believe so, Madam,” he said. “We haven’t finished questioning the accused.”

“Yes, but they’re not answering.”

Kingsley pressed his lips together and scanned the faces of the Wizengamot. He turned back to the prisoner. Jace looked at him mockingly.

“What’s happening to your great new order, Mr. Minister Shacklebolt,” he sneered. “Afraid to get your hands dirty? The Dark Lord wasn’t.”

Up in the trainee section, Ron snorted. “What a brainless sod. He just hanged himself,” he said to Harry. “But they’ll never get anything out of him without Veritaserum.”

“Saliyah wants to use it, but Kingsley doesn’t,” Harry whispered back. “Remember at Ginny’s party? They had a spat about it.”

Kingsley’s eyes had narrowed at Jace’s outburst, and there was a stirring amongst the Wizengamot; the same witch spoke again.

“You forget what happened to Tom Riddle, Mr. Kleinhead,” she said coolly. “And you forget where you are and where you might be going. Perhaps a few years in Azkaban will change your mind and we won’t have to resort to magic to hear your story.”

Jace shot a furious look at her but didn’t respond. Kingsley asked him a few more questions, again without eliciting any answers, and dismissed him. He called Serpens Lestrange.

Morequest Pester released the ropes holding Serpens and hauled him up. He almost had to drag the prisoner to the chair. When he was firmly secured, Pester released the Silencing charm and stepped back. Serpens rattled his chains and laughed.

“You’d better use Veritaserum, Mr. Minister.” He spat out the words. “If those two pathetic worms wouldn’t talk, what makes you think I will?”

Kingsley ignored him and turned to Saliyah.

“Mr. Lestrange,” she said, standing and leaning slightly forward with her hands on the railing in front of her, “isn’t it true that a week or two before you attacked the three young students, you and Mr. Kleinhead got drunk in the Slytherin common room and started talking about the plot to kill Harry Potter, loudly enough so that those students could overhear you?” Serpens glared at her.

“And isn’t it true,” she continued, “that several weeks before that, you and your three friends here tried to ambush Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood in a Hogwarts corridor not far from where you attacked the three first-years? And that the two girls managed to Stun the lot of you, rather easily, despite the fact that you surrounded them?”

Serpens had now turned purple, his face twisted with rage.

“And isn’t it true, Mr. Lestrange, that the three first-year students who overheard you, and who you beat and tortured, told friends of Ginny Weasley about the plot to kill Harry Potter? And because of that, because of your ineptitude and indiscretion, someone commanded you to torture and perhaps kill the three first-years?”

The chamber was dead silent; only Serpens’ strangled breathing could be heard. “Yes,” he said in a low snarl, “we did all that, but I’ll never tell you who she is, you—”

He shut his mouth with a snap that all could hear, gave a cry of rage and tried to rise out of the chair. He fell back, breathing hard, glaring with utter hatred at the Auror.

She smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Lestrange. I’m finished with him, Minister.” She sat down and whispered something to Percy; he shuffled through his parchments and handed one to her. She passed it to Kingsley.

The Minister nodded to Pester, who cast a Silencio again, unshackled Serpens, and dragged him by his wrist bracelet back to his seat. Jace Kleinhead glared at him with utter contempt and said something under his breath. Serpens did not look at him.

Kingsley banged his gavel. “The evidence has been given and testimony taken. It is now time for the Wizengamot to decide guilt or innocence, and for sentences to be pronounced if the defendants are found guilty.” He turned around and faced the benches behind him. “Those of you who believe the defendants are guilty as charged?” Every hand was raised. “Those who believe the defendants are innocent of all charges?” No hands went up.

The Minister turned back to the chamber. The four guards led their prisoners to the center of the floor, directly in front of the witness chair. Pester’s wand was in Serpens’ back; with the other hand he gripped his wrist bracelet.

“Do you have anything to say before I sentence you?” Kingsley asked. “This is your last chance to mitigate your punishment.”

Olbert and Tiberius hung their heads; Jace simply looked at the Minister, while Serpens smirked.

“Very well, then. Olbert Schmidt and Tiberius Rookwood, I sentence both of you to three years in Ministry detention. Jace Kleinhead, taking note of your continued adherence to Tom Riddle, I sentence you to ten years in Azkaban prison. At the end of your sentence, you will be brought before the Wizengamot again, and if they determine that you are repentant, you will be a free man. Otherwise, your sentence may be extended.”

He turned to Serpens. “Serpens Lestrange, there are people in the custody of the Ministry of Magic who committed such heinous crimes during the past few years, that they are now serving life sentences in Azkaban. If you were not a student at Hogwarts and only a year past your legal majority, I would give you a like sentence. You have displayed nothing but contempt and hatred for everything that is good and decent. Taking note of your continued adherence to Tom Riddle and your fanatic refusal to cooperate, I sentence you to twenty years in Azkaban prison. At the end of your sentence, you will be brought before the Wizengamot again, and if they determine that you are truly repentant, you will be a free man. Otherwise, your sentence may be extended.”

“Then I’ll be there a lot longer than twenty years!” Serpens shouted. He twisted his head, spat in Pester’s face, and jammed his elbow into the Auror’s solar plexus. Pester doubled over with a loud grunt, and before anyone could react, Serpens turned and screamed at the students, “But you’ll be dead, Potter, you and your little whore! It’s coming! It’s coming and you can’t stop it!”

Four spells hit him at the same time. He shot five feet into the air and fell heavily to the floor; Kingsley, Percy, and Morley Dancepit put their wands away. Saliyah kept hers in her hand and vaulted over the railing. She pushed Pester aside as he bent over the unconscious Serpens.

 _”Rennervate!”_ She shoved her wand into his gut and he jerked and opened his eyes. _”Silencio!”_ the Auror hissed. She pulled him up by his shirt front, grabbed his wrist bracelet, and shoved him towards the prisoners’ door.

Kingsley Shacklebolt banged his gavel and the other Aurors took their prisoners and led them after Saliyah and Serpens. Olbert Schmidt and Tiberius Rookwood had frightened faces and went quietly, but Jace Kleinhead’s eyes were gleaming and he held back. He looked towards Harry as his Auror pulled him.

“He’s right!” Jace shouted; the Auror’s wand was out and he cried, _”Silencio!”_ Jace’s mouth opened wordlessly; the Auror grabbed his bracelet and put his wand into his back. Jace grinned wildly and followed Tiberius Rookwood out the door. Morequest Pester trailed slowly after. The door closed and there was silence in the chamber.

Kingsley stepped down from his bench; members of the Wizengamot started filing after him out the door to the corridor, and a buzz of conversation rose from the trainees. Harry ignored Ron and Seamus’s calls to him and pushed his way down the row. Out in the dimly lit corridor two witches in plum robes were conversing and turned to look at him, but no one else was there. The air seemed fresher out here, but he was shaking again, and when he held up his hand it was trembling. He went up the stairs to the Ninth Level and saw Neville standing alone by the lifts. Harry walked slowly to him.

“They had to go back to school,” Neville said. “Ginny said she’d send you an owl. What happened? No one would tell me anything after McGonagall and Pomfrey came out. Say, Harry, are you okay?” Neville looked at him with concern.

“Fine,” Harry muttered. “Serpens and Jace made a few threats, but I suppose I should have expected it.”

“They’re just a pair of stupid punks. Don’t worry about them. They’ll be in prison, won’t they?”

“All of them. Lestrange got twenty years in Azkaban, Kleinhead got ten. The other two got three years in Ministry detention.”

Neville whistled. “Twenty years! Keesha said he was causing trouble; he must have really screwed up to get a sentence like that.”

“He spit at Luna, he screamed at Kingsley, and he would have killed Saliyah if he hadn’t been chained up. Aside from that he was a model prisoner.”

Neville chuckled. “Maybe they’ll give him the same cell his aunt had.”

Students coming out the door from the tenth level were gathering around the lifts. “I have to get going,” Neville said as Ron joined them. “I cut a few classes so I could be here. Maybe we’ll stop by the inn this weekend.” He joined a group who had entered a lift; the grille shut and it clattered upward.

Ron and Harry took another lift by themselves, but Ron stopped it after the grille closed and looked closely at Harry. “Are you all right, mate? You shouldn’t pay those bastards any mind. They’re both off the deep end.”

Harry was silent for a moment. “Yeah, but someone’s still out there. Shacklebolt should have used Veritaserum.”

“Yes, he should have.”

Harry punched the button and the lift began to move. “So what happens now?”

“Remington told us to go to lunch We’ll all meet in the common room in an hour to talk about the trial. Twenty years.” He shook his head. “He’ll be an old man.”

“We know it’s a witch behind the Turntongue,” Harry said. “That was brilliant, what Saliyah did. She made Lestrange completely lose control.”

“So are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Ron arched his eyebrows.

“The toad?”

“Exactly. Who else could it be? There’s no one else around with that kind of knowledge and, I have to admit, talent. She’s got to be holed up in that house up in Hogsmeade, and she’s got Turquoise Southeby Imperiused.”

“Plus she hates my guts,” Harry said grimly. He paused for a moment and stared at the wall of the lift. “I’ll actually be glad if it’s her. I just hope I can get my hands on her before the Ministry does.” He chuckled. “And she’d better hope that _I_ get hold of her before Ginny does. But I still don’t think Turquoise is Imperiused. She never acted like she was. Everything I saw her do, she did with a lot of enthusiasm.”

The lift stopped. They walked through the Atrium to the cafeteria and joined their classmates. Everyone was talking about the trial, and everyone wanted to know what Harry thought about it. There was also a lot of speculation about the identity of the witch that Serpens had let slip; all of the members of the D.A. were positive it was Dolores Umbridge, but some of the others were skeptical.

“She was never a Death Eater,” said Tom Trenton. “She always had political aims; she was twisted, but everything she did was calculated with a political purpose in mind. Beating up eleven-year-olds was not political, it was stupid. It was bound to turn public opinion completely against whoever did it. It has to be someone else.”

“She can’t possibly have political ambitions now,” Tony Goldstein rejoined. “She’s an escaped prisoner on the run. She already has most people turned against her for what she did here last year. And she’s perfectly capable of doing something that’s just sadistic. Anyone who was at Hogwarts three years ago knows that.”

“Maybe most people are against what she did in the Ministry, but not everyone. What do you think, Harry?”

Before Harry could speak, someone tapped his shoulder. He turned and saw Laura Lovegood. “I’m sorry to interrupt your lunch,” she said, “but Miss Ushujaa would like to see you.”

“What’s it about?” Harry glanced at Ron and got up.

“She’ll tell you. She’d like you to come right away.”

They went to the lifts and up to the Second Level. Saliyah was waiting in her office; two winter traveling cloaks lay across her desk. “We’re going to Knockturn Alley. Sit and I’ll tell you what’s happening.”

“Knockturn Alley?” Harry repeated. He wondered if it concerned the trial or Serpens’ threats, but he noticed a file folder on the desk, the same one that was there the first time Harry had been in the office.

“That’s what I said.” Saliyah opened the folder. “Peruvian Darkness Powder again. This time it turned up at Borgin and Burkes. We don’t know where he got it from, so you and I are paying them a visit to find out. I’m sorry I had to take you from your lunch, but we need to act quickly, before they get wind that we know. We can eat at the Leaky Cauldron when we’re finished.”

“How did you learn about it?” Harry said as he put on the cloak that Saliyah handed to him.

“Mr. Fletcher,” the Auror grinned. “I don’t know if it was my threat or your inviting him to your wedding, but he outdid himself. I’m not even going to ask him how he found out.”

Laura Lovegood joined them. “Have you ever been in room seventeen in the Leaky Cauldron?” Saliyah asked Harry. When he shook his head, she said, “The Department keeps it as a safe place we can Apparate into whenever we need to visit Diagon Alley. Tom is the only one there who knows. We’ll Side-Along the first time.”

Harry took her elbow, and in a moment they were in a small room in the Leaky Cauldron that held only a table and two chairs. Harry glanced out the window and saw Diagon Alley below. They went downstairs, through the bar, and out into a cold, blustery day. They walked quickly down the street and turned into Knockturn Alley; a few yards down, they entered Borgin and Burkes.

It was Harry’s third visit to the shop, and it was still dim and dusty. He also immediately recognized Caractacus Burke standing behind the counter, watching with wary eyes as they approached. It was six years since Harry had last seen him, dealing with Lucius Malfoy as Harry peeked out from inside the Vanishing Cabinet; the man looked like he had aged more than six years.

“Madam Auror.” He inclined his head to Saliyah but did not acknowledge Harry or Laura.

“Mr. Burke, how are you? How is business?” the Auror said pleasantly.

“I am fine, business has declined since last spring.” He glanced at Harry, and Harry, following Saliyah’s lead, smiled.

“Sorry to hear that,” he said. “An unintended consequence of Mr. Riddle’s death, I suppose.”

“Perhaps.” The old man looked back at Saliyah. “What may I do for you, Madam? Are you here to shop, or is this an official visit?”

“Official. We heard that there was a recent transaction in here involving Peruvian Darkness Powder. A large shipment of it entered the country illegally not too long ago. I don’t suppose you know anything about it.”

Mr. Burke gazed at her steadily. “No, Madam. We do not deal in illegal substances. I believe it is not against the law to possess or sell the item in question, however.”

Saliyah smiled. “Let me restate my question. Did you purchase Peruvian Darkness Powder from someone recently?”

“Ah. Yes, Madam, we did. But as I had no evidence that the person had obtained the substance illegally, the sale was perfectly within the law. I do not believe it is my responsibility to determine the provenance of an item such as you mention.”

“Well, can you tell us who it was? Alternately, my associates and I could take a look around. Maybe if we stumbled on it, we could ascertain who you bought it from.”

Burke’s face darkened. “No, you may not take a look around, not unless you are purchasing something. You know perfectly well, Miss Ushujaa, that you may examine any item on display in the shop, but you may not go prying through my private and personal—”

“Was it Pansy Parkinson?” Harry said. The old man looked at Harry; for a brief moment his eyes widened and his face flushed; he opened his mouth but did not speak.

“Well,” Saliyah grinned and leaned on the counter, knocking over a display case of bloodstained playing cards, “now that we know who you bought it from, Mr. Burke, I wonder if you wouldn’t mind telling us how much you paid her for it and how much you bought. It would help us quite a bit in a, um, criminal investigation, and we would be very grateful.”

He glared at her and bowed his head at Harry. “Very good, Mr. Potter. You will make an excellent Auror. I have heard, indeed, that you are in line to succeed Madam Ushujaa even though you have no experience and are barely out of school.”

“I’m a quick study,” Harry said. “But you know, Mr. Burke, I’m also a very friendly chap. I like to make friends and get along with people.” He smiled again.

“That is very good to know. I will keep it in mind as your career blossoms.”

Saliyah put the bloodstained playing cards back in their case, and Burke started to readjust the display. “I believe I offered Miss Parkinson thirty-two Galleons for two pounds,” he said without looking up.

“Did she accept it?” the Auror asked. He bowed his head.

“Thank you, Mr. Burke,” Saliyah said, grinning at Harry. “You’ve been very cooperative. The Ministry of Magic appreciates your—”

“Madam!” The old man slapped his hand on the counter and a thick cloud of dust arose. “The Ministry of Magic appreciates nothing! Good day!”

“Excellent, Harry.” Saliyah beamed as they walked back to the Leaky Cauldron. “How did you know it was Pansy Parkinson?”

“We ran into her yesterday, right here. She was coming out of Knockturn Alley and ran off when she saw us.”

“So she sold some of the Darkness Powder,” the Auror mused, but frowned. “That means she’s part of whatever is going on up in Hogsmeade. They have her running errands because she has a clean record. And now they have some funds to work with.”

They re-entered the Leaky Cauldron. Saliyah pointed to a table and she and Harry sat while Laura went to the bar and ordered lunch. “Talk later,” Saliyah said to Harry in a low voice.

They returned to the Ministry, but there was a message for Saliyah from Kingsley, and she had to leave Harry without saying any more. He found the common room empty except for Ernie Macmillan who told him that everyone had been dismissed early, right after the meeting.

It was only four o’clock, and Harry hurried to his locker to collect his books. He was anxious to see Ginny, and if he got home right away, they could have dinner together in the Great Hall and talk about this most eventful day. But there was a note in his locker from Professor Matthewson, asking Harry to see him in his office. By the time they finished reviewing two more chapters in the Investigations textbook, it was six-thirty.

Harry stood in front of an outgoing fireplace in the Atrium, debating what to do. After thinking it over, he reluctantly decided to go home. He didn’t know how much work Ginny might have this evening, but he knew that she had missed at least half a day of classes, and he didn’t want to be the cause of her missing any homework deadlines. So he Floo’d to his flat and saw on the mantel a letter from Ginny; he sat in the love seat and read.

 

 

 

 

> _Dearest Harry,_
> 
> _I missed you so much today! At least we got to see each other. Tonight I will kiss my pillow a thousand times to make up for not being able to kiss you. That’s a poor substitute, I know, so the next time I see you I will kiss you two thousand times._
> 
> _We heard about the sentences for the four Slytherins. I have to admit I was shocked when I heard that Serpens got twenty years in Azkaban. He deserves it, but it’s still a little sickening to think of someone I know locked up there for twenty years. I thought the other sentences were just. I was very impressed with the way Kingsley ran the trial. It is so comforting to know that someone like him is Minister for Magic._
> 
> _Let me know what you thought of the trial, and of your redheaded witness. I thought I would crack up when Luna got going. In case you didn’t guess, what Keesha said to Jace was that she would cut out his stones if she ever saw him again. I thought that was pretty cool._
> 
> _Write to me tonight, my love. I can’t stand being away from you. Do you remember that I told you I can’t wait for school to end? That’s the main reason. I want to be with you always. I want you in every way. I love you._
> 
> _Ginny_

Harry sighed and stared into the empty fireplace. Ginny was so close yet so far, and he had been afraid for her ever since Serpens had erupted during his sentencing, even though he knew she was perfectly safe inside Hogwarts. He thought about the Bouquedelle, but put the thought aside; that was for desperation and long separation.

He got out the Marauder’s Map and found Ginny’s dot in the Great Hall. He noted with interest that the twins were at the Slytherin table, and that some of the older students were sitting near them. Maybe the trial and the sentences had put the fear of Merlin, or at least of Kingsley Shacklebolt, into a few of them.

He put down the map and decided to distract himself by going downstairs. Winky greeted him in the kitchen and dished up a platter of fish and chips. He took it into the dining room and looked around. It was emptier than usual; only four or five customers were at tables, but there were several wizards sitting at the bar, including Tony. Harry sat next to the contractor.

“So how was the trial of the century?” Tony asked with a grin. “The _Prophet_ said that Lestrange lived up to his pedigree. Oh, and there’s a photo of Ginny on the second page.” He picked up a copy of the newspaper from the bar and showed it to Harry. Sure enough, the headline, _Trial Of The Century!_ screamed at him. Below it was a picture of the four prisoners sitting with their guards in the court chamber.

“How did they get that picture?” Harry said. “I never saw anyone taking photos.”

“It’s done with magic, Harry,” Tony said with an another grin. “They’re wizards, you know.”

Harry gave him a look and opened the paper to the second page. Ginny gazed at him from the witness chair with a slightly annoyed frown on her face. The caption read, _The Chosen One’s Chosen One_.

“Oh for Merlin’s sake,” Harry groaned. “They had to use that, didn’t they?”

“‘Fraid so, mate.” Tony took the newspaper back and finished off his firewhiskey.

Harry turned to Stan who was getting a fresh drink for Tony. “Where is everyone tonight? I figured lots of folks would want to come here to talk about the trial.”

Stan looked at him in surprise. “Didn’t you know? I thought you would ‘ave ‘eard, being down at the Ministry and all.”

“Know what?” He looked around in alarm. “Was the inn attacked?”

“No, no,” Stan assured him, and paused. “You didn’t ‘ave any trouble Flooing back ‘ere did you?”

“No. Did something happen to the Floo Network?”

“The whole village got disconnected for about ‘alf an hour, right after lunch. It came back up, but no one wanted to leave their ‘ouses because no one knew if the security was still set. Old Rastlebuck came around a couple of hours later and said it was okay, but no one’s taking a chance.”

“Was the school still connected?” Harry had a sudden fear of being cut off from Ginny.

Stan looked at Tony who shrugged. “No one said. And no one said why it happened, either.”

Harry finished his meal without talking much and went back upstairs. He didn’t like the sound of what Stan had told him, nor the fact that no one had said anything to him at the Ministry. And it felt even more ominous coming right after Serpens and Jace’s outbursts. That must have been why Saliyah was called to the Minister’s office. He pictured in his mind the cavernous room with its map-lined walls and red dots running along the lines of the Floo Network. He would have to ask someone tomorrow what happened.

He went into the bedroom and sat on the bed, looking at Ginny’s photo blowing kisses at him. He took out quill and parchment and wrote.

 

 

 

 

> _My love,_
> 
> _I got back from the Ministry late. I found your sweet letter, and it made me miss you almost beyond bearing. I will take your two thousand kisses and give you back double, plus I will take you up on your word that you want me in every possible way. Now I have to stop thinking about that or I will lose my mind._
> 
> _I thought that all of the sentences were just. Your testimony was superb, and you didn’t seem nervous at all. Keesha and Luna were also great, and Luna was, as Ron put it, worth the price of admission._
> 
> _I got really angry when Lestrange looked at you after your testimony. He’s a foul git, and I’m glad he’ll be in prison, hopefully forever. If he ever does get out and I see him, he’ll have to apologize for that look._
> 
> _Saliyah took me out on a case after the trial. I’ll tell you about it when I see you._
> 
> _Stan just told me that the Floo Network in the village was disconnected this afternoon. Was it out at the school? That worries me, because there is no other way for me to get to you instantly in case something happens. But you have the ring, and that comforts me._
> 
> _I love you more than I can ever tell you, but when I see you again I will try to put it into words—and actions._
> 
> _Love, Harry_

After sending it off with a package of toffee crèmes, he went to bed and slept soundly, dreaming that he and Ginny were all alone in Hogwarts Castle, feeding each other Chocoballs.


	40. The Storm

For Harry, the next few weeks flew by. He was enjoying himself more and more as he became immersed in the training program, even though he had never worked so hard in his life. He spent more time studying than he had for his O.W.L.s.

But for Ginny, time slowed to a crawl. She was working on major projects in Transfiguration, Potions, and Herbology, plus Madame Maxime was cramming a whole year’s worth of Defense Against the Dark Arts into one term. The seventh-years did not have the luxury of the younger students, who would be able to make up in the coming years the material they had missed because of Professor Pester’s perfidy. The work kept piling up until Ginny and almost everyone else in her year felt like they were going under.

Hours came to feel like days, and days like weeks, but what made it worse was that for a long stretch of time she never saw Harry during the week. He had to spend so much time doing catch-up work at the Ministry that he always came home late. She could tell from his letters that he was enjoying himself marvelously, which made her happy, but through the entire month of January and into February their only contact from Sunday night to Friday evening was in the letters that McPherson carried between Gryffindor Tower and the Hog’s Head Inn.

Too often Ginny caught herself staring out a window in the library, in a classroom, or in the common room, mooning over Harry and yearning for the weekend. It always took an effort to get her mind to return to her work. At least on the weekends when they studied together in the library she didn’t have any trouble concentrating. And they made up for lost time on Friday and Saturday nights in the four-poster.

Ginny had hoped to start Quidditch practices again, but the weather stayed cold, and it was often blustery and damp. She brought the team together on Wednesday evenings—she refused to do it on the weekends when it would have cut into her time with Harry—and held chalkboard sessions in an empty classroom, diagramming the tactics she learned from the Harpies book she had bought in Diagon Alley. It was a poor substitute for flying, though, and didn’t do much to relieve her stress over schoolwork and not being with her lover.

During the second week of February there was a major and happy distraction. Harry came home one evening, late as usual, to find an urgent message from Ginny, delivered by a school owl that was sitting alone on McPherson’s perch, cheerfully munching McPherson’s owl treats from the sack hanging there. After snatching the sack away and glaring down the outraged owl, Harry read the short note:

 

 

 

 

 

> _Darling, you must come to the owlery as soon as possible. It’s wonderful! I don’t think McPherson will be able to deliver messages for a while. Love, Ginny_

He grabbed the Marauder’s Map and saw Ginny’s dot in the owlery, near the ledge and Bailey’s nest; Hagrid was there too. Harry dumped his books on the table, shooed the owl out the window, and Floo’d to the Gryffindor common room. The second-years sitting in the chairs in front of the fireplace waved as Harry jumped out, and in a few minutes he was standing breathlessly next to Ginny and Hagrid, all of them peering up at the nest. McPherson was peering back at them, but they couldn’t see Bailey. Ginny had a huge grin on her face.

“Harry, can you Levitate me? Hagrid is certain that they all hatched, but I want to make sure.”

Harry brandished his wand. _”Wingardium Leviosa!”_ he said, and carefully began raising Ginny upward, as Hagrid circled directly below her with his arms outstretched.

“Now you be careful, Ginny,” he called. “Yer mum’ll kill both me an’ Harry if yeh get hurt. An’ don’ get too close to the nest. Owls are very protective.”

Ginny kept rising. When she was at the same height as the ledge, she motioned to Harry to move her closer; he walked towards the wall, his wand still pointing upward. “Oooh!” they heard her squeal. “Hello, Bailey, sweetie. Oooh, they’re beautiful!”

McPherson moved aside, and Bailey peeked over the ledge and hooted once. “How many?” Hagrid called.

“Six. They all hatched!”

“Okay, then. C’mon down. No good disturbin’ the young ‘uns. Let their mum ‘n’ dad do their work.”

Ginny floated to the ground and did a dance around Harry. “They’re beautiful! They—whoops!” They all ducked as McPherson soared past them and out the window.

“Let’s see what he brings back,” Hagrid said as he watched the owl disappear into the night. “I brought some mouse parts along, just in case.” He hefted a leather sack and started to open it to show Ginny and Harry, but they both stepped back.

Harry waved his hand. “That’s all right, Hagrid. We believe you. How did you know they had hatched?”

“Ginny came and told me that McPherson was peckin’ at her window this afternoon, but he didn’ have no note from yeh. So, I figured he was lettin’ her know that the babies was arrivin’. We got here, and Ginny said she felt like them eggs had hatched, so we sent an owl for yeh, ‘cause I didn’ trust myself to Levitate her.”

Harry smiled at Ginny. “Grandmum Ginny.” He kissed her. “Where’s your rocking chair and knitting needles?”

She slapped his chest. “Don’t grandmum me, granddad. It was your owl that started it all.”

On cue, McPherson shot back in over their heads and up to the ledge; two mice dangled by their tails from his beak.

Hagrid hooked the leather bag back onto his belt. “I don’ know where he’s findin’ ‘em, but he ain’t gonna let them owlets go hungry, I can see that. Well,” he turned back to Harry and Ginny, “I’ll be off. Why don’ you two stop by this weekend? We’ll have a little drink to celebrate.”

He trundled off, and Harry took Ginny into his arms. “This was a nice reason to come see you.” He kissed her. “I have to get back, though. I’m almost caught up in Remington’s class, and I—”

He had to stop when Ginny kissed him fiercely. “Please, stay a little longer,” she whispered. “I’ve missed you so much.”

He looked into her upturned face. “You know I can’t resist you. But can we find someplace that has, uh, fewer bird droppings?”

They returned to the common room and found an empty corner with an overstuffed chair. Ginny curled up in Harry’s lap and sighed. “I’m starting to go crazy,” she said while Harry stroked her hair. “It’s getting harder and harder to stay motivated. All I want to do is finish and get on with things. You know, us, the Quidditch tryouts . . .”

“Us,” Harry grinned. “Has your mum finished planning the wedding?”

“Pretty much. She’s worried about you, though. She doesn’t want to do anything to upset you.”

Harry thought for a moment. “Tell her I’m fine. You know, the more I’ve got into the program the less I think about things that used to bother me.”

“Like?”

“Like my parents and Sirius. When I saw them in the Forest before . . . before I met Riddle, it changed the way I thought about them, but I still thought about them a lot. Maybe it’s just that I don’t have as much time to think anymore, but now it feels like it’s something behind me, and not with me all the time. Does that make sense?”

“Yes, and isn’t it better to be thinking about them less?”

“Yes, and it also means there’s more time to think about good things, and there’s lots of those.” He pulled her close and kissed her again.

They held each other for several minutes. “Is there anything new about the Darkness Powder or Pansy?” Ginny finally asked.

Harry frowned. “Nothing. We’re guessing that Mr. Burke told them that we were nosing around asking questions, and they went completely underground. Mundungus even apologized to Saliyah for not being able to find out anything.”

“And did they ever figure out why the Floo Network got disconnected?”

“They said it was a technical problem. Now, how the hell do you have a technical problem with magic? I know that Kingsley was really after them, but what those damned Ministry Gnomes do best is cover their asses.”

“That’s what Dad used to say, but he was a little more delicate.” Ginny gazed at Harry and sighed. “Well, lover, I think we both need to get back to our lessons. This has been a lift, though. For some reason you make me feel better about things.”

“Blimey, that’s nice,” Harry laughed. “Especially since we are getting married.” He took her hand and looked at the ring. “This is beautiful on you. Whenever I really miss you or when things are dragging at the Ministry, I picture this on your hand. Then I know that soon we’ll be living together, and we’ll see each other every day, and be together every night, and . . .”

“Oh yes.”

They kissed again, and Ginny stood. “There’s one other thing. Mum asked if we had any ideas for a honeymoon.”

“I do, but it’s a surprise, so tell your Mum not to worry about it.”

“Oh.” Ginny looked surprised herself, but smiled. “Okay, I’ll tell her.”

They walked to the fireplace, kissed once more as the second-years watched, and Harry left in a swirl of green flames.

# # # #

The rest of the week passed with only a minor uproar in the school over the owlets. Hagrid Spellotaped a sign to the owlery door stating, “Do Not Disturb Baby Owls!!” but it finally took an angry McPherson using talons, beak, and, most effectively, a few well-aimed owl pellets to keep the chattering humans away.

On Saturday Sagittaria Slocum had dinner with Harry and Ginny at the flat. Harry had wanted to invite her to dine with them for several weeks, but the Auror had no spare time until the weekend after the owlets hatched. Winky prepared a delightful roast pork casserole with asparagus, onions, and potatoes. They ate in the parlor at the new table, set with a linen cloth and linen napkins that Ginny had borrowed from her mother.

While they ate, the Auror told them a little about herself. Her stepfather had died four years ago, and she lived with her mother in London when she wasn’t out on an assignment. She had never married; there was a “friend” when she was at Hogwarts, but he was killed in the first war along with his Muggle parents. It was one of the things that led her to choose a career as an Auror.

She also told them several hair-raising stories about her days in the Auror department, including how she and a few friends had sabotaged some of the Death Eaters’ plots last year.

“They were going to kidnap you from school with the connivance of the Carrows,” she said to Ginny. “They had already taken Luna Lovegood from the Hogwarts Express, and when her father caved in and agreed to help them, they figured they might as well go after bigger fish. The plan was to take you right before the Easter holiday, but we got wind of it and slipped a two-month old Skrewt into Walden Macnair’s desk; he was the one running the operation. When he opened his desk drawer that morning his face got pretty much fried, and they postponed the whole thing until after Easter.”

Ginny shuddered. “Luna told me about the cellar in Malfoy Manor.” Harry reached over and took her hand; he didn’t want to think about what might have happened if Ginny had been there when he, Ron, and Hermione had arrived.

“Where did they get the Skrewt?” he asked. “I thought they all died except the one Hagrid put in the maze for the Triwizard Tournament.”

Sagittaria grinned. “We asked him to breed a few more. We thought they might come in handy at some point. Anyway, the Skrewt got away. It’s still someplace inside the Ministry for all we know.” She laughed. “I thought it was poetic justice, since Macnair had been the executioner for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures Committee.”

“What do you think happened with the Floo Network last month?” Harry asked as the dishes disappeared and a chocolate cheesecake appeared; Ginny started carving it up and dishing it out. “Was it really just a glitch? I can’t find out anything about it from Saliyah.”

“That’s because no one in the Magical Transportation Office is talking. Something embarrassing happened and they’re covering it up.”

“How can that be?” Ginny exclaimed. “What’s Kingsley doing? Isn’t there supposed to be a new way of doing things down there?”

“Yes, Ginny, but it’s going to take time. The same people have been running that office for decades, just like your dad’s been running the Muggle Artifacts office. The bureaucracy . . .” She shook her head. “It’ll change, but not that quickly.”

They talked for a while about the Ministry of Magic, and when Ginny mentioned that she wouldn’t mind working in the Games and Sports department some day, Sagittaria told them that she had briefly played Quidditch for a semi-professional club right after leaving Hogwarts. She and Ginny got into an animated discussion about the Holyhead Harpies, also Sagittaria’s favorite team, and Ginny made a quick trip back to her dorm room and showed the Auror her book about the Harpies. The three of them started talking tactics, brooms, next year’s World Cup to be held in Switzerland, and Ginny’s upcoming tryout.

“I always wanted to play professionally,” Sagittaria said over coffee, “especially if it could be with the Harpies. But I was never good enough. I didn’t get a chance to see you fly last fall against Slytherin, but I heard all about it. You’ll make the team, I’m sure.”

Ginny tried to be dismissive, but Harry wouldn’t let her. “You’re a lot better than I was, especially on that new Firebolt. I can’t wait to see you at the Hufflepuff match. You should be sure to come,” he said to Sagittaria. “Ginny’s a brilliant coach too. She has a knack for it that I never had.”

“I’ll try to come, but it depends on our schedule.”

The evening ended when Sagittaria had to relieve Sam Goldberg who was on duty outside the inn. They all went downstairs together and Harry and Ginny sat with Tony and Rosmerta, who had taken a few hours off from The Three Broomsticks. Later Hagrid came in and began telling everyone about the owlets. Harry and Ginny went back upstairs to bed after a long and very pleasant evening.

The weather turned unseasonably warm next week; Ginny called a Quidditch practice for Saturday and asked both Ron and Harry to come. They took Dennis Creevey down to the other end of the pitch, and Harry attacked the goals while Ron shouted instructions at the hapless Keeper. After thirty minutes Ron decided that Harry was too good, as rusty as he was, and was completely destroying Dennis’s confidence since he scored on every rush. So Dennis went back to the team, and Ron and Harry sat in the first row of the stands and watched.

Ginny and the others had started practicing some of the new tactics from the book. Ron and Harry watched Ginny zip around the pitch on her Firebolt, and Harry couldn’t take his eyes from her.

“She’s so smooth!” he exclaimed at one point when she cut in front of Demelza Robins to show the Beaters how she wanted them to disrupt an attack. “She’s like a bird up there.”

“You’re prejudiced,” Ron said, “but you’re also right.”

They watched for a few more minutes, and began talking about the Auror program. “What will you be doing on the Hogsmeade weekend?” Ron asked. A Hogsmeade weekend was approaching, and Saliyah had decided to beef up security by bringing in all the trainees and stationing them around the village.

“I’ll be out behind the inn along the lane. Saliyah figures that if anyone tries to come in by foot they’ll come that way, and if something happens in the village we can jump them from behind. What about you?”

“Guarding the Post Office,” Ron groused. “I’ll be stuck there with Ernie. That’ll be a treat. Maybe I can talk Hermione into staying with us.”

The Quidditch players landed, except for Ginny. Harry scanned the sky looking for her, and ducked when, with a loud whoop, she zoomed from behind the stands just a few feet over his head.

“Heads up, Potter!” she yelled. “You too, little brother!” She did a barrel roll and landed in front of them, grinning from ear to ear. “Nice reflexes, Ron.” He had leaped aside and toppled over the railing and was now sprawled on the pitch at her feet.

He got up and brushed himself off. “Damn it, witch! Next time buzz your boyfriend. And I’m not your little brother. Honestly,” he said in a perfect imitation of Hermione; Ginny and Harry both laughed.

Ginny picked up the broom Harry had been using. “Come on, let’s fly.”

Harry grabbed the broom and his gloves from the seat where he had put them. He kicked off while he was still putting them on, and had to duck again when Ginny zipped past him and soared straight up. He climbed after her and soon they were high above the stadium, laughing and calling to each other. They went higher and higher, and despite the bright sunshine it became colder and colder. They moved towards each other and hovered on their brooms side by side.

“How high do you think we are?” Ginny said; her cheeks were flushed from the cold and her eyes were bright.

“A few hundred feet?” Harry leaned over, kissed her, and leaned back. “I never kissed you while we were flying before.”

She smiled. “Let’s do it more often.” She reached out and he took her hand as they spiraled down together and landed in front of Ron.

“You know, you don’t need to go up there to get some privacy,” he said.

They went back to the Gryffindor common room where Ginny dropped off her Quidditch gear, and they walked back to the inn; the day was sunny and warm enough that they could take off their cloaks and carry them. Harry peered at the Shrieking Shack as they passed it, but the woods around it were quiet and he could see nothing moving inside. They had lunch in the inn’s dining room, Ron returned to London, and Harry and Ginny went back to the library to work.

# # # #

February turned into March, and the weather remained pleasant as spring approached. Harry was busy with his classes, and finally caught up in most of his subjects, on the academic side at least. His repertoire of spells was still limited, compared to the other students, but his wandwork stood out; he was learning to control the phoenix wand and the new strength it had acquired since being repaired by the Elder Wand. And on his own, back in his flat, he practiced the wandless technique he had discovered last summer.

Ginny finished her term projects in Transfiguration and Herbology, but she got a new one in Arithmancy. Still, her workload was now a little lighter, as was Harry’s, and he was now able to come to the castle for dinner on Wednesdays. The first thing they would do when he arrived, though, was visit the owlery. The owlets were now hopping around on the ledge and some of them summoned the courage to peek over the edge, while Bailey scolded and tried to push them back into the nest with her head and wing. Whenever Ginny spotted an owlet, she would squeal with delight. They usually brought the twins with them, so Harry and the owls had to put up with three squealing females.

The Hogsmeade weekend fell on the second Saturday in March, and on Friday the weather turned colder and threatened to storm. Ginny didn’t schedule a Quidditch practice, and didn’t return to the library on Saturday to study. Harry was patrolling the lane in back of the village with Seamus and Susan, so Ginny stayed in the inn with Hermione, or the two of them wandered up and down the crowded High Street, talking with school acquaintances and browsing in Scrivenshaft’s and Honeydukes. The day passed uneventfully under lowering clouds; no one saw or heard anything suspicious. Ron came back to the inn at six o’clock for dinner, grumbling about Ernie Macmillan’s annoying habit of tapping his wand on a window whenever he saw students doing something he didn’t like.

“There were two kids snogging out back and he started rapping his goddamn wand on the window. The bloke finally flipped him the finger and I told him to leave the poor buggers alone. He’s like Percy but with a badge, which makes it worse.”

“Ernie’s okay,” Harry chuckled. “I might not want him in front of me, but I would never have any doubts if he was watching my back.”

“You’re right, I guess,” Ron reluctantly agreed. “He’s a pain in the ass to work with, though.”

At that moment Sagittaria walked in the door; she looked around the room and saw them in back and came over.

“How were things in the lane?” she asked Harry. “As quiet as everywhere else?”

He nodded. “It was so boring we started counting birds flying over. Six hundred and twenty-two, in case you’re interested.”

She laughed. “Welcome to the Auror profession. That’s what we do most of the time, count birds.”

“It seems to me,” Hermione spoke, “that if someone wanted to make trouble, today would be the least likely day for it. It would be too obvious, and there were too many Aurors around.”

“And that’s exactly the way we wanted it,” Sagittaria said. “Quiet. No problems. Well, I’m off for twenty-four hours. I’m taking a little break at Mum’s. Sam will be in charge. Keep your eyes open, Harry. We don’t want a letdown just because we got through today without a problem. I’ll be back tomorrow evening.”

She bid them goodbye. Ron yawned and looked at Hermione. “Shall we go too? I could use a bath and a back rub.”

Hermione smiled. “Sure, sweetie. So could I.”

“How about taking the bath together?” Ron suggested with a leer.

“We’ve tried that before, remember? I never seem to get my back rubbed.”

“Oh, yeah,” Ron nodded. “But I promise this time I’ll rub your back first.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head at Ginny. “How many times have I heard that one?” She stood. “Okay, I’m gullible. Let’s go.”

Ron grinned at Harry. “See, mate, just follow my example and you’ll get the royal treatment.”

They went upstairs and Ron and Hermione Floo’d back to Diagon Alley. After Harry lit a normal fire, they sat in the love seat and watched the flames. Eventually Ginny curled up in his lap and Harry began running his hands through her hair; they kissed, and soon he was unbuttoning her blouse and unzipping her jeans. The trail of clothes led into the bedroom and they made love long into the night. It was sweet, tender, and hot; Ginny felt her passion grow as the evening and the night wore on, and Harry felt a strength that seemed to grow as they kept coming back to each other.

“I can’t get enough of you tonight,” he gasped after they had just successfully tried a new variation of an old position involving Levitation. “What’s going on? Every time we finish I just want to go right back at it.”

“Mmm,” Ginny smiled and started using her hand again. “I don’t know, Harry,” she said in a soft, sing-song voice. “Speaking for myself, I just feel really, really good about everything. I’ll be done with school before you know it, you’ll be at the top of your class before you know it, and we’ll be married before you know it. And I’m not going to let you out of my sight or my hands—” he moaned as she gave a little squeeze “—forever.” She threw her leg across him and slid on top; her hair fell down and made a red curtain around his face. He took her face in his hands and kissed her deeply and ran his hands down her back.

“Ginny,” he whispered as his hands pulled her hips to him. “I love you.”

“Yes,” she murmured as they both began to move. “Never stop.”

On Sunday morning they staggered out of bed and ate breakfast in the little kitchen, where the view out the window showed it had started to snow. Harry didn’t have much homework but he wanted to be with Ginny, so they both Floo’d to Hogwarts and went to the library together. While Ginny studied, he read ahead in his Evidence Analysis textbook, occasionally falling asleep and dropping his head onto the page. Keesha and Luna showed up after lunch; Neville was planning to meet Keesha in Hogsmeade later, so they all decided to go there together. Ginny finished her last parchment, Harry felt well-rested, and they Floo’d to the inn.

Neville arrived a little after four o’clock and they all walked down to The Three Broomsticks through a heavy snowstorm that was starting to feel like a blizzard, the wind swirling and the temperature dropping. The street was empty; they were the only ones out, and the village seemed almost deserted. They ate dinner with Rosmerta and stayed for a couple of hours in the warm, cozy inn. It was dark when they returned to The Hog’s Head for dessert; Winky was making a special treacle pudding, and neither Luna nor Harry wanted to miss it. After filling up, they climbed to the flat to Floo back to Hogwarts; it was after eight o’clock.

Luna stepped into the fireplace first, but when the green flames died down she was still there. She blinked back at them. “I’m still here,” she said. “Harry, your fireplace doesn’t work.”

Harry swore. “The damn Network must be disconnected again. Let’s go try Rosmerta’s. If it doesn’t work we can walk back.”

“Maybe we should wait,” Keesha said. “It might re-connect.”

“I don’t want to get detention again,” Ginny demurred. “I have too much to do. I’ll bet Filch is just waiting to nail us.”

They wrapped themselves in their cloaks, put their hoods up, and went out into a howling blizzard. They could barely see three feet ahead and couldn’t hear each other over the gale. They were walking into the wind, which kept blowing their hoods off and snow into their faces. Harry carried Ginny’s satchel and they had their arms around each other’s waist; Neville was between Luna and Keesha, holding both of their hands. There were only a few lights from the shops along the High Street.

As they passed the Post Office Harry thought he saw a curtain in the upstairs room drop, as if someone had been watching them. He stopped and Neville walked into him; they all halted.

“What is it?” Ginny shouted over the wind.

“Don’t know!” Harry shouted back; the wind screamed and blew his words away. “I think someone is in there!”

“I can’t see anything!” she yelled. “Are you sure?”

There were no lights in the small building. Harry walked over to it—he had to lean to his right into the wind to keep from being blown over—and peered through a window. He wiped his eyeglasses off, lit his wand and held it next to the glass; he could see the postmaster’s desk and rows of cubbyholes behind it, a few with letters in them. Someone tugged on his sleeve.

“Come on!” Ginny said into his ear. “We’ll get blown away!”

Harry put his wand into the hand that was holding the satchel and took Ginny’s waist again. They pushed on through the storm and in a few minutes were inside the warmth and relative quiet of The Three Broomsticks.

“Whoo-ee!” Keesha grinned as they shook off their cloaks and stamped their boots. “That’s a first-class storm. I thought it was supposed to be spring in a week.”

The inn was empty, but Rosmerta came hurrying out of the back room. “What on earth are you people doing out tonight?” She looked at them, worried.

“Say, Ros,” Harry said, rubbing Ginny’s hands between his, “is anyone staying in the Post Office? I thought I saw someone in the upstairs window.”

“Rathbone stays there sometimes,” she answered, speaking of the old postmaster, “but I don’t think he would tonight. It’s drafty.”

Harry frowned. “Is your fireplace working? Mine is acting like it’s disconnected. The girls have to get back to school before nine.”

“Try it.”

Luna tried it, but it didn’t work. Rosmerta sighed.

“That’s a pain in the rear. I was going to close early and visit my sister.” She turned to Luna and Keesha. “You can stay here if you like. There’s plenty of empty rooms upstairs; no one’s out tonight. Except you,” she giggled.

The two girls looked at Ginny. “No thanks,” she said. “I want to get back to school. This storm won’t be an excuse for Filch; he’s been after me all year.”

Harry started to say something, but Ginny held up her hand. “I know what you’re going to say, but I’ve had a bunch of warnings and two detentions. I really don’t want to spend a couple of Saturdays cleaning his filthy bathroom.”

Harry didn’t like it, but he could see that Ginny was set on going back to Hogwarts tonight. “Okay, then let’s do it now.” They bundled up again and started out. Before Neville opened the door, Rosmerta called, “Sagittaria Slocum is due back any minute. I’ll tell her where you’re going.” Harry waved to her, and the five walked out.

The storm had abated somewhat, but it was still windy and still snowing hard. As they left the village and headed towards the train station, Ginny, Keesha, and Luna lit their wands and held them up. They didn’t give much light because of the heavy snow, but at least they acted as beacons so they knew where each other was. They crossed the tracks, and as they started up the lane to the tall pillars of the castle gate, past the Shrieking Shack, Harry let go of Ginny and lit his own wand. It blazed like a torch as he put some extra power into it. He gazed up at it, grinned at Ginny, and started walking again. The wind died down a bit more.

Suddenly all four wands blinked out. “What the hell?” Harry said, stopping. He could see nothing. Ginny’s arm was still around his waist, but it was as though she was invisible. He looked back and all he could see was black.

Ginny took his arm. “It’s the Darkness Powder!” she hissed. “We have to get out of here!”

She began to pull him along the lane, or what felt like the lane, but with a loud bang that made them all jump, a jet of red light cleaved the darkness over their heads.

“Down!” Harry yelled, and fired in the direction he thought the spell had come from. Suddenly the lane was filled with explosions as flashes of white and red light filled the air. A spell would shoot through like a flare without illuminating anything, and leave behind nothing but darkness; Harry, squatting low, had never seen anything like it.

He was afraid to fire for fear of hitting his friends, but he heard a scream from behind and Neville cursing and shouting, “Keesha! Keesha!”

More spells shot past and Ginny screamed. She slammed into Harry and he went sprawling. “Ginny!” he cried, flailing wildly, trying to find her. He got onto his hands and knees and reached into the blackness. “Ginny!” he screamed, panic and fear rising inside him.

Spells sizzled overhead and he dropped flat on the ground, inched forward another few feet and came up against a body. He put his hand out and felt a face and knew instantly it was Ginny. He moved his hand and felt her closed eyes and a trickle of blood on her cheek. “No!” he screamed.

A spell passed so close to his face that he could smell his own singed eyebrows. He rolled over and fired back wildly, but immediately realized that firing like that was a mistake. Two red spells hit the ground right next to him, sending up a shower of snow and debris; somehow, the attackers knew where they were, even though they were enveloped in a shroud of darkness.

He rolled back onto his stomach and threw himself over Ginny’s body, trying to cover as much of her as he could. He put his head down with his cheek next to hers, but when she moaned and tried to move, he realized he had pressed against her wound. He raised his arm to cover her head, and a white spell passed within an inch of his hand. It felt like an electric shock and his wand flew into the air; he snatched at it, but came up with nothing. A sense of dread engulfed him and a vision of the White Tomb, only a few hundred yards away, rose in his mind. He buried his face in the snow, cursing himself and the Elder Wand, now possessed by an unknown enemy.

Another spell shot just over Ginny’s head, snapping him out of paralysis. He ran his hands inside her cloak, desperately searching for her wand, but his hand brushed hers and he felt the ruby ring. He pulled her arm up, pressed the ring to his mouth and looked around, but nothing happened. Another white spell, and a red one, smashed into the ground behind him.

He felt someone grab his leg; someone was crawling along the ground next to him and Ginny’s inert body.

“Harry!” Neville said hoarsely, but at that moment it came to Harry what he had to do. He bent Ginny’s limp arm and put the ring to her lips.

At first only a dim silver glow floated in the air in front of them, and then his stag stood there, visible despite the total shroud of darkness. It moved to stand directly over Harry, Ginny, and Neville.

“It’s his Patronus,” came a shout from the woods. “He’s there!” A red spell shot towards the stag but rebounded off and flew back in the exact direction it had come from and there was a loud scream, followed by curses. “Don’t fire at it! Don’t fire at it!”

Harry kept his head down; he was still straddling Ginny’s body, and started rummaging through her pockets. If he could find her wand, maybe he could Summon the phoenix wand.

Someone grabbed his arm. “Harry!” It was Neville again, and he shoved something into Harry’s hand. “Your wand hit me in the face. Here!”

A wave of relief washed over Harry: the phoenix wand had not been defeated. Without thinking, he put it to his mouth, kissed it, and laughed.

“What’s so funny,” Neville whispered in the darkness, his voice angry and desperate. “Keesha’s gone. She got hit and then someone came running up and grabbed her. What are we going to do? Who’s this?” He felt along Ginny’s arm.

“It’s Ginny. She’s unconscious. We’re fighting!”

He aimed a spell under the body of his stag, and heard another scream. Spells came back and rebounded from the stag, which stood motionless, the only thing visible in the pitch black.

“God damn it!” someone yelled from the woods. “Stop shooting at the fucking Patronus!"

Someone came crawling next to Neville. “Luna?” Harry whispered. “Is that you?”

“Yes,” came back a remarkably serene voice. “I lost my wand. I can’t see.”

“Luna, it’s pitch black. No one can see,” Harry whispered.

“I know.” They could hear her crawling back away from them. “Here it is!” she called loudly, “I found it.” A spell hit the ground near where her voice had come from. “Damn,” she said, and a spell went the other way, followed by another scream from the woods.

Running footsteps came towards them from Hogsmeade Station and the pitch-blackness was no longer so impenetrable; Harry could make out Neville’s face, just inches from his. Someone called out, _”Protego!”_ and a Shield Charm sprang up in front of them. Shouts came from the woods, and spells shot down the lane towards the approaching footsteps.

Then Sagittaria was kneeling next to them; she waved her wand in a large circle and the blackness began to lift. As it slowly dissipated, Harry began to make out Ginny’s face underneath him. He lit his wand for an instant, just enough to illuminate her, and cried out.

Her eyes were closed, strands of her hair lay across her face, and a long, raw, red burn ran across her temple and down her cheek; blood was oozing from it. He took her head in his hands and pressed his forehead to hers. “No! No!” he whispered.

Someone in the woods laughed raucously and another spell shot towards them, but was deflected by the Shield Charm.

“We got his bitch!” came a yell.

Enraged, Harry started to rise, his wand in his hand, murder on his face. Sagittaria reached up and grabbed his cloak. “Harry, no! She’ll be okay! I’ve seen twice as bad—”

He ripped his cloak from her grip, sprang from behind his stag, and moved so he was also beyond the Shield Charm. His wand slashed and a barrage of spells crashed into the woods with deafening explosions, sending sparks everywhere.

“Harry!” the Auror cried, jumping up. She grabbed him with both hands.

A sheet of green flame shot from the woods; it hit Sagittaria’s face squarely. Harry could feel the heat and feel her body go instantly limp. She slumped to the ground and lay unmoving, staring open-eyed at the dark sky.

A loud whoop issued from the woods, and Harry, who had been frozen in shock, dove behind the stag, which now was prancing in place and pawing the snowy ground. He threw himself back on top of Ginny as Neville and Luna fired into the woods; they could hear branches cracking and crashing to the ground. Harry didn’t move, but Neville and Luna kept firing and more branches fell, with more curses and shouts.

But now other spells were shooting into the woods from the lane to Harry’s left and right. More shouts came from the woods, as the crossfire lit up the whole lane. Someone came running and knelt next to Harry; it was Sam Goldberg.

“Whose Patronus is that? What—?”

He saw the body of Sagittaria on the snowy ground a few feet away. “No!” he whispered, staring. “What happened?”

“Killing Curse,” Harry said hoarsely. “I was—” He couldn’t speak, and buried his face in Ginny’s cloak.

Loud and angry voices momentarily came from the woods in front of them, but the voices went still and green flames lit the trees in a garish, sickly glare. For a moment there was silence, then a string of four loud pops sounded, followed by more silence.

Harry’s stag faded and vanished. Sam slowly stood and lit his wand. “They’re gone! All clear!” he called loudly, and answering voices came from up and down the lane. More wands lit, and in a moment they began moving towards the figures gathered around the two forms lying on the ground.

Harry knelt over Ginny, cradling her head in his right hand and stroking her face with his left. He looked up at the sound of footsteps and saw Professor McGonagall kneeling next to him.

“Harry,” she said, “she’ll be fine. We had dozens of wounds like this during the battle, and they’re all fine. We need to get her to the hospital wing.”

“Her face,” Harry said, choking. “Her face, her face.” He looked at McGonagall as tears streamed down his cheeks. “Her face.”

“There will be no scars, I promise. Come.”

She stood and glanced at the others; Professors Flitwick, Sprout, and Slughorn, as well as two Aurors, were bent over Sagittaria. Neville and Luna stood behind Harry, shocked and afraid. Neville spoke to the Headmistress, his voice quivering.

“Professor, Keesha is gone. Someone grabbed her. I think she was hit by a Stunning spell. She’s gone.” He wiped his face with his sleeve and Luna took his hand.

McGonagall had gone pale; her normally thin lips had completely disappeared. “Pomona!” she said loudly, and beckoned when the Head of Hufflepuff turned. “Miss Baker has been taken. We need to inform her parents. And her uncle.” Sprout stared in shock, rose, and ran back down the lane towards the castle.

“Harry,” McGonagall said, “Levitate Ginny and we’ll take her up to the school.”

“No!” He put his arms under her still form and lifted her. He stood and kissed her lips and began walking. Luna pulled on Neville’s hand and they followed. The Headmistress spoke with Flitwick for a moment and went after Harry.

Harry noticed that it was still snowing, but now it was only a gentle flurry, and the wind had died completely. Flakes fell on Ginny’s face and melted, except those that landed on her eyelashes. He bent his head and kissed them away, his tears mingling on her face with the melting snowflakes. Neville and Luna walked at his side, and Luna put her hand on his elbow; they trudged through the snow, their hoods back, their eyes down.

Professor McGonagall caught up, took a quick look at Ginny, and hurried ahead. When they got to the castle, the great oak doors were standing open and the Headmistress was there with her wand drawn. Harry could see Argus Filch disappearing up the marble stairs. “He’ll tell Madam Pomfrey that Ginny is on the way. Go on, I must stay by the door.”

Harry hefted Ginny again and followed Filch. Neville stayed with him, but he looked back and saw that Luna had remained with McGonagall; she also had her wand drawn. The Headmistress gazed at Luna for a moment and turned back to peer into the darkness of the castle grounds.

Filch was at the door to the hospital wing and opened it for Harry. Madam Pomfrey led him to a bed and he laid Ginny down. She moaned once, but then was still.

The nurse gently pushed Harry aside. “Stand over there, dear,” she said, bending over Ginny with a jar of thick white cream that she started applying to the angry wound on her face.

Harry moved to the other side of the bed. “Will she be all right?”

The nurse smiled as she gently massaged the cream into the wound. “She’ll be fine, Harry. It will take a day or two to heal, but there should be no scarring. She was fortunate that it missed her eye. That would have taken much longer to heal, and she would have had to go to St. Mungo’s.”

Harry dropped into a chair next to the bed. “Sagittaria is dead,” he said dully with his head bowed. “She got hit by a Killing Curse.” The nurse gasped and looked up, her eyes wide. Harry’s voice cracked and he began to weep. “I—I stood up, and she tried to stop me, and she got hit.” He put his arms on the bed and buried his face in them.

A small hand touched his hair. He lifted his head and saw Ginny looking at him from her pillow, smiling weakly. “Love,” she said in a whisper so low he could barely hear. “Are you all right?”

Harry put a trembling hand on her cheek. “Oh Ginny. I’m fine. How are you?”

“Not sure.” She gave a short laugh. “Everything hurts. What happened? I remember the Darkness, but I can’t remember what happened after.”

Harry glanced at Madam Pomfrey, and she patted Ginny’s arm. “You need rest, dear. Drink this, it’s a sleeping potion. When you wake up you won’t hurt any more.” She put a goblet to Ginny’s mouth and Harry held her head up; Ginny took a sip of the golden liquid and lay back.

“That’s good,” she whispered. “Harry,” she turned her head, “I’m sorry. We should have stayed at the inn . . . I’m sorry . . .” Her voice trailed off and her eyes closed.

“She’ll sleep for at least twelve hours,” the nurse said. “Here, the balm has to be refreshed once an hour.” She handed Harry the jar and smiled. “You’ll be staying here, I’m sure.”

Harry didn’t answer. He took Ginny’s hand and pressed it to his forehead as he leaned his elbows on the bed.

Neville was standing at the foot of the bed; he came and put his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “I’ll send an owl to her parents.”

Harry nodded without looking up. “Get word to Ron and Hermione too, and when you get a chance, tell Stan I won’t be back for a while.”

Neville squeezed his shoulder and started to walk away. Harry raised his head. “Neville.” His friend stopped and looked back. “We’ll find Keesha. I’m sure she’s okay.” Neville bowed his head for a moment and walked out. Madam Pomfrey, standing by the door, closed it after him and quiet fell on the hospital wing.


	41. Scars of Battle

The dark hours of the evening passed into the darker hours of the night. Madam Pomfrey set a magical hourglass on a table next to Ginny’s bed; when the sands ran out, a bell chimed to let Harry know it was time to rub more balm onto her wound. After a few more applications he thought it was starting to look better.

He was alone except for the nurse looking in on them occasionally. She did not speak except to make comforting noises as she checked Ginny’s face, and Harry was glad not to talk. He sat next to the bed with his head resting on his clenched fists, or slumped down with his head back, staring at the ceiling. In truth, he was hoping that no one else would come until after Ginny had awoken and they had a chance to talk, but he knew that her parents and probably her brothers would arrive soon. And he also knew, with a feeling of sick dread, that Saliyah Ushujaa would come, wanting to know what had happened in the lane, and why one of her Aurors was dead.

Ginny was going to blame herself, but Harry knew that it was nobody’s fault but his. He had allowed them to push on through the storm even after he had seen someone spying on them from the Post Office. And during the fight, when one of the attackers had shouted an insult at Ginny, he had completely lost control. Instead of treating the epithet for the pathetic, deranged blathering that it was, he had exposed himself to harm, forcing Sagittaria to jump up and save him. It was the stupidest thing he had ever done; he should have paid for it with his own life, but now someone else had joined the long list of those who had died because of him. The faces of those dead people ran through his brain, and his anguish grew.

He had asked Neville to send for Ron and Hermione, but now, as he began to perceive the consequences of his actions, he did not want to see anyone but Ginny; she was the only soul who would know what horror was now opening up before him. He also wanted to keep her from taking any of the blame on herself. He wanted to protect her, but he realized, with another shudder, that what he really wanted was for her to protect him.

With that realization, his shame was total; not only was he stupid, he was a coward. His stupidity and cowardice would be trumpeted in the newspapers and all over the Ministry; everyone would know what he had done. He would be expelled from the Auror program, and the utter despair that had almost destroyed him last fall, when he had hit Ginny, would return, and this time it _would_ destroy him.

He felt a surge of terror, along with disgust, anger, and hatred for himself. If it was not for Ginny he would walk out right now into the snow and give up everything: his friends, his inn, his career, his fortune; he would leave everything and go someplace where no one knew him, where he could hide his shame and maybe learn to live with it.

He stood and, with tears streaming down his face, biting his lip to keep from screaming in rage and frustration, he walked to the head of Ginny’s bed, to the wall. He stood for a moment, staring through tears at the dark paneling. With a muffled cry he slammed his fist into it as hard as he could and heard bones crack and felt a jolt of pain run up his whole arm. He went dizzy and his knees buckled; he leaned against the wall, clutching his wrist, blood oozing from his knuckles.

The door to the corridor opened and Harry turned; Ron and Hermione hurried to the bed. They didn’t see him at first, hidden in shadows, and they both bent over Ginny. Suddenly Harry sucked in his breath as a wave of pain swelled in his hand, and Hermione looked up; her eyes grew wide.

“Harry! They didn’t tell us you were hurt!” She came around the bed but stopped when she saw his face. “Harry, what’s wrong? Is—is Ginny . . .?”

Harry shook his head quickly. “She’s fine. She’ll be fine,” he said hoarsely, and winced when his hand moved. “I’m fine. Please . . . go away. Nothing matters anymore. I can’t—”

He slumped into the chair, staring at Ginny. Hermione and Ron looked at each other, shock written on their faces. Ron came around and stood next to Harry.

“What’s wrong, mate? I mean, we heard about it. Half the Auror department is out there looking for the bastards. Good God, what happened?” He now saw Harry’s bloody hand; it was starting to turn purple and Ron looked up at Hermione. He motioned with his head and she hurried to get Madam Pomfrey.

Ron looked at his sister and back at Harry who was still clutching his wrist and staring at Ginny. Ron put his hand on Harry’s shoulder and looked up as Pomfrey hurried in with Hermione right behind.

“What happened?” the nurse said with her brow furrowed. She took one look at Harry’s hand, waved her wand over it, and peered at him. “Mr. Potter, look at me. What happened to your hand?”

“Nothing,” he whispered. “Leave me alone.”

“Harry!” Hermione cried; tears started flowing down her face. “What are you saying? What happened? Please, tell us!”

Pomfrey’s frown deepened. “He blames himself for the death of the Auror. He said as much when he brought Miss Weasley in.”

“No!” Hermione cried, almost a shriek. “You mustn’t. Harry!”

“Mate,” Ron said firmly, “nothing was your fault. It was those bloody bastards—”

“It was my fault,” Harry said loudly, wincing again. His voice dropped. “I stood up and she tried to pull me down, and she got hit. They were aiming for me, but they got her.”

Ginny moaned, and they all turned. Her eyes opened briefly, but closed again; she waved her hand feebly in the air and tried to speak. Madam Pomfrey went to her and wiped beads of sweat from her brow, then turned to Harry.

“She needs to sleep. I don’t understand how she could be waking up, but something has disturbed her. Now, Harry,” she took his wrist and looked closely at his hand, “I’ve cast a healing spell. This will mend in a few hours, but would you mind telling me how it happened?”

“I punched the wall,” Harry mumbled; he was staring at Ginny.

“You punched the wall?” The nurse shook her head. “Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger, would you mind staying here for a while? Mr. Potter needs looking after more than Miss Weasley.” She took a bandage from her pocket and Harry winced as she wrapped his hand. “I will have none of this in my hospital, is that clear? They have a whole floor for behavior like this in St. Mungo’s; a former Hogwarts teacher is a permanent resident. If you want to remain here with Ginny, I suggest you refrain from further acts like that.”

Harry didn’t raise his head; she dropped his wrist, gave a significant look at Ron and Hermione, and left.

Ron looked at Hermione. “Harry, tell us what happened,” she said.

“Sagittaria Slocum is dead,” he said in a monotone. “Nothing else matters.”

Before either of them could respond, the hourglass chimed. Harry jumped up and, with his good hand, scooped balm from the jar and began rubbing it gently on Ginny’s wound.

“It’s getting better,” he said softly as he bent over her. “She got hit with some kind of burning jinx, maybe the same one they used in the Department of Mysteries. It missed her eye. Pomfrey said there wouldn’t be any scars. I carried her here. The snow was falling on her face. Her ring saved us; she was out, but she summoned my stag. She’s so beautiful . . . my Ginny . . .”

His tears started flowing as he spoke, and he abruptly sat and put his face in his hands. “Oh, God, what have I done?”

Hermione squatted next to him and put her hand on his leg. “Harry, you did nothing. The Death Eaters, or whoever they were, they’re the ones responsible for this.”

Harry shook his head. “No. You don’t understand. We were lying there, my stag was protecting us, they couldn’t touch us. Then I lit my wand to look at Ginny, and one of them must have seen that she was hit. He called her a—” Harry put his good hand over his eyes, drawing short, gasping breaths. “He said something and I lost it. I got up and started firing at them.” He gave a short mirthless laugh. “I’ve never fired my wand like that, I could have knocked down the whole forest. If I had thought for a second I could have Stunned them all.” He was silent for a moment. “She jumped up and tried to pull me down, and someone fired a Killing Curse and . . . she fell.”

No one spoke, but Ron’s brow was furrowed. “She just jumped up and grabbed you? Why did she do that?”

Harry looked at him. “How the hell should I know? She’s trained to do it. She’s an Auror.”

Ron shook his head. “There were twenty ways she could have dropped you without exposing herself. She could have Stunned you, she could have Disillusioned you, she could have invoked her own Patronus, especially after she saw what yours was doing. Hell, she could have just knocked your feet out from under you. If what you did was stupid, what she did was insane.”

Harry stared at Ron. “You’re telling me that someone who has been an Auror for years, who’s good enough to be put in charge of a whole village, risked her life for no reason? I don’t believe it.” He turned away and folded his arms across his chest, but swore and unfolded them when pain shot through his hand.

“I don’t know why she did it,” Ron said a little testily to the back of Harry’s head, “but I’m telling you she could have—she should have—done it differently.”

He looked at Hermione and started to speak again, but she put her hand up to stop him; she touched Harry’s cheek and gently turned his head. His eyes were down, but he raised them, and when Hermione saw their pain she had to bite her lip.

“Harry, listen to me for a minute. Maybe Ron is right. I know it doesn’t make you feel any better, but why don’t you wait until you talk to Saliyah. I’m sure she’ll be here soon; she was in the lane a few minutes ago with Kingsley. Harry,” she turned his head again when he looked away, “don’t do anything. I know why Ginny woke up. She felt you, she felt your pain. She needs to rest, don’t upset her.”

Harry pushed her hand away, but gently. “I need to talk to Ginny,” was all he said.

As Hermione got to her feet, the door opened again and Molly, Arthur, and Bill Weasley entered. Harry abruptly stood, pushed past Ron, and walked to the other side of the room with his back to them. Molly looked at him in surprise, but hurried to Ginny’s side.

“Poppy said she’s sleeping,” Molly said to Ron. “What happened? Luna told us a little, but I wasn’t quite sure what she was saying. Harry?”

They all looked at him. He slowly turned and came back to the foot of Ginny’s bed; he put his unhurt hand on the foot rail and spoke without taking his eyes from Ginny.

“She was hit by a curse that burned her face. Madam Pomfrey gave me a potion to put on it. She said it won’t scar, and she’ll be okay when she wakes up.”

Bill was standing next to Harry and pointed to his bandaged hand. “What’s this? Did you get hit too?”

“No, I’m fine. It’s nothing.”

Molly sat in the chair that Harry had vacated and brushed a lock of hair from Ginny’s face. She picked up the jar of unguent, sniffed it, and put it down. She turned to Harry.

“Harry, dear, I’m so sorry. It’s bad enough that Ginny got hurt, but to have an Auror killed . . . And poor Keesha being kidnapped. I’ve never seen Neville so wrought up, and Kingsley is livid. I’m sure they took her because she’s his niece.” She paused and tears filled her eyes. “This has been a terrible night, the worst since . . . since Fred.”

She suddenly stood, and before Harry could react she had pulled him into her bosom and was crying on his shoulder. Harry looked helplessly at Ron and slowly put his hands around her. He stood awkwardly until Arthur came, took Molly away, and held her.

Bill took Harry’s arm and pulled him towards the back of the room; Harry came reluctantly, but Bill was insistent. He stopped when they were out of earshot of the others. He kept his firm grip on the arm, put his other hand on Harry’s shoulder, and spoke in a low voice.

“Harry, tell me what happened. Something’s wrong. Saliyah is on her way, but if you don’t want to talk to her for some reason, I’ll keep her away. But what in Merlin’s name happened to your hand?”

Harry put his hand over his face as tears poured out. “Where’s Fleur?” he said thickly. “Is she okay?”

Bill smiled. “She’s fine. She’s too far along to Apparate, that’s all. She can Floo up if you want to see her.”

Harry shook his head. “Can’t. The Floo Network is disconnected. That’s how they got us to walk into the trap.”

“It’s reconnected, and two people in the Ministry are under arrest.” He paused a moment. “Harry, what’s wrong?” He let go of Harry’s arm, but kept his hand on his shoulder.

Harry wiped his face with his sleeve. “I did something stupid and Sagittaria tried to protect me. She got hit with a Killing Curse that was meant for me.” He bent his head, and Bill took his other shoulder. They were silent for several minutes; the only sounds were low murmurs from the family around Ginny’s bed.

They heard voices outside and the door opened. Kingsley Shacklebolt strode in, followed by Saliyah Ushujaa, both wearing dress robes; apparently they had been at a function of some kind when they got the news. Kingsley looked grim and angry; his mouth was set in a straight line; his eyes flashed around the room, but softened when he saw Ginny. Saliyah’s dark face had an ashen cast with tear streaks running down it. She hugged Molly and bent over Ginny, inspecting her wound, but looked up at Harry, who had approached with Bill.

“Are you all right, Harry?” she said gently; he nodded. “What happened to your hand?”

“Can we go outside?” he said quietly.

Saliyah led him into the empty corridor and turned to face him. Harry saw only concern in her eyes; he felt tears coming again.

He told her everything, from Luna’s attempt to use his fireplace to his smashing the wall with his fist. When he described how he had left the protection of his Patronus a frown briefly crossed Saliyah's face, but when he told her that Sagittaria had also jumped up, she showed surprise. When he was finished, she shook her head.

“Harry, you are not an Auror yet, and there is nothing in what you did that will keep you from becoming one. The only thing I can fault you for is that you reacted to a taunt without thinking. But what Sagittaria did is incomprehensible. Her instinct was to protect you, and it was the right instinct because that’s what she’s trained to do; it’s her job. But she violated a dozen rules by exposing herself like that.”

She picked up Harry’s bandaged hand and examined it. “Don’t blame yourself, do you hear me? I don’t know why she did it, and we may never know, but it was not your fault.”

Harry looked at their hands. “She was a really nice person,” he said in a voice close to a whisper. “We had her over for dinner a few weeks ago. She told us all about herself. She—”

“What did she tell you?” Saliyah interrupted, and peered at Harry. “I didn’t know she had spent her free time with you. There’s nothing wrong with that,” she added when she saw Harry’s look.

“The last time I saw her before tonight she said she was going to see her mother.”

The Auror lowered Harry’s hand and thought for a moment. “Well, don’t tell me now what she talked about; we’ll discuss it later. And I’ll have to tell her mother.” She passed her hand over her eyes. “God, she doesn’t know yet.” She heaved a deep sigh. “Let’s go back in. Kingsley wants to know what happened. Neville wasn’t very coherent and Luna seems to have missed a lot of the action looking for her wand.”

Harry gave a short laugh. “Yeah, but I think she hit one of them. Did you catch any? I think we got three or four.”

“You got five, but the ones who got away executed them before they Disapparated.”

Harry’s gut turned over. “Executed?”

She nodded. “Apparently they didn’t want them to fall into our hands, and they didn’t want to Disapparate lugging Stunned bodies along.”

“You—you didn’t find Keesha?”

“No.” Saliyah opened the door and they went back inside.

Harry had very mixed emotions as he walked back to Ginny’s bedside. He wanted to believe what Saliyah—and Ron—had said about Sagittaria, but he couldn’t understand why she would have done it, especially if there were so many other ways she could have protected him. But even if he could accept that she hadn’t died because of his own stupidity, he could not forget what it had been like to feel the life go out of her body, and see her dead eyes looking up at him. As he sat in the chair that Molly left for him, he glanced at Ron and Hermione, and managed a brief, tight-lipped smile.

Madam Pomfrey was there, trying to shoo people away from the bed. Arthur came over and asked Harry if he needed anything; Harry shook his head and thanked him. Molly planted a kiss on top of his head and kissed Ginny’s brow, and they left with Bill.

Saliyah and Kingsley were talking together near the door. After a few minutes the Auror came to the bed.

“Kingsley wants to talk to you, Harry, but it can wait. I told him what you told me. I don’t think you can really add anything to what Neville and Luna said, especially about Keesha. When you’re ready, let me know. And don’t forget what I told you.”

After she and the Minister left, Ron and Hermione stood on the other side of the bed watching Harry. “If you want to stay in Hogsmeade, use the flat,” he said. “I won’t be going back until Ginny is better.”

“Are you okay?” Hermione asked hesitantly.

“I don’t know. Saliyah said the same thing you did, Ron. Sagittaria didn’t . . . do it right. I don’t know.” He looked at Ginny. “She’ll wake up and find out that Sagittaria is dead and Keesha is missing. She blamed herself for not staying home tonight. She was afraid of getting another detention.” He paused. “Filch was the real gentleman; he held the door for us. I wonder if he’ll do the same thing if she misses curfew again.”

“What will you do tonight?” Hermione asked. “Will you stay here?”

“I’ll pull a bed up and lay down next to her.” He looked at them and a tiny smile crossed his face. “Thanks.”

Ron nodded and took Hermione’s hand. “We’ll be at the inn, and we’ll be back tomorrow.”

Hermione came and gave Harry a hug; he patted her back and watched them leave. Madam Pomfrey came and checked Ginny’s face and Harry’s bandage. “I’ll be in my room behind the office,” she smiled. “But I see that Ginny is in good hands. Good night, Harry.”

Shortly after she left, the hourglass chimed. Harry rubbed the balm into Ginny’s wound; it was definitely beginning to heal, and Ginny seemed to be sleeping more peacefully. He bent down and kissed her lips. “I’ll take care of you,” he whispered. “I’ll always take care of you.” Ginny sighed in her sleep, and Harry thought he saw her lips form a little smile.

He moved the next bed up against Ginny’s, took off his boots, set the hourglass, and lay down. The night didn’t seem quite so dark now, but he still had the image of Sagittaria’s staring eyes in his mind. Regardless of what Saliyah said about the Auror’s actions, there was still no doubt that he had done something appallingly stupid. He knew that if Ginny had been conscious, she would have stopped him. It was a severe error in judgment, and it had led to another person committing her own fatal mistake.

There would be repercussions, there had to be. Saliyah was not the type of leader to criticize at a time of high emotion; she would wait until her own feelings were under control before doing what was best for the Auror department. He was sure that Kingsley would have something to say too. He was ultimately responsible for everything that happened in the Ministry; there was sure to be an uproar because of the death of an Auror, and maybe it would be worse because Harry Potter was involved. Kingsley would have to deal with the political complications that were bound to arise. He would have to explain why Harry Potter, who had perhaps caused the death of an Auror, was being groomed to be Head Auror.

He reached over and took Ginny’s hand; when he squeezed it gently there was return pressure. He laced his fingers in hers and rested their joined hands by her side, next to her leg. He lifted his head and watched her breathe; her bosom moved up and down, and as he looked at her, Harry was amazed to feel his heart fill with joy. It wouldn’t matter to Ginny; whatever he had done, she would take care of him. He would not be alone; he would never be alone. This creature, this beautiful, loving, totally accepting woman was his, and it was so because he was hers.

He moved closer, put his head down on her pillow, his face into her hair, and breathed in her sweet fragrance.

Ginny murmured something; Harry looked at her, but her eyes were closed. She lifted their clasped hands and put his on her chest; he could feel her locket underneath her blouse. She left his hand there and began breathing regularly; Harry’s hand rose and fell on her chest.

Emotions and feelings filled his soul; they were not lustful, but he had never felt closer to his Ginny, not even during all the times they had made indescribable love. He put his face back in her hair and dozed until the hourglass chimed. Afterwards, he lay down again in the exact same position and slept for another hour. When he awoke, Madam Pomfrey was standing over him with her wand, and he became aware that his bandage was gone. He flexed the hand; it was stiff but there was no pain. He got up and insisted on tending to Ginny himself, although the nurse wanted him to rest. He applied the balm, turned the hourglass over, fell into bed, and was asleep instantly.

When the rising sun sent it’s golden rays through the high windows of the hospital wing, the nurse came in to see her patients and found that Harry had slept through the chimes. She smiled down at them; their hands were clasped and Harry’s face was buried in Ginny’s hair. She knew that even without the magical balm, the healing had continued.

# # # #

Harry opened his eyes. Ginny’s face was only inches from his and she was looking at him with a smile. “Hi,” she said, and her smile broadened. He smiled too, but with a rush it all came back. He raised his head and looked around the empty hospital wing; bright sunlight lit the whole room. The hourglass was sitting on the little table next to Ginny with the sand all run out into the bottom.

“Oh, no, I slept through it.” He tried to sit up but Ginny’s hand was on his chest.

“It’s all healed, love. Madam Pomfrey woke me up an hour ago. She said to let you sleep.”

Harry turned her head and ran his fingers over her cheek. The skin was smooth and pink; there was not a trace of the ugly burn or of a scar. “Thank Merlin,” he whispered. “How do you feel?”

“Never felt better. But tell me what happened. I don’t remember anything except my whole body feeling like it was on fire.”

Harry sat up in the middle of the bed with his legs folded under him; he took her hands and held them tightly. Ginny also sat up. “What is it? Did someone else get hurt?”

“Sagittaria is dead,” he said looking directly into her eyes. “And Keesha was kidnapped.”

Ginny turned pale. “No. How can that be?” she said in a small voice. “Harry, tell me what happened.”

Haltingly, but not looking away, Harry described the fight, Sagittaria’s arrival, and the Killing Curse. “She went limp as she was trying to pull me down.” He put his hand over his eyes, and his voice broke. “Ginny, I felt her die.”

Tears filled Ginny’s eyes; she bit her lower lip and took Harry’s face in her hands. “Love, it wasn’t your fault. If I hadn’t said I wanted to come back—”

“No!” Harry shook his head. “No, Gin, it was not your fault.” He paused, but when Ginny tried to say something he cut her off. “We all had a choice. Keesha and Luna could have stayed at The Three Broomsticks; I could have made us go back to the inn. But . . .” He looked at his hands, and back at Ginny. “I did something really stupid . . . and now she’s dead.” He put his face on her shoulder, and Ginny put her arms around him and rocked him side to side.

They were still there when the door opened and three Weasleys and Hermione walked in. Arthur, Ron, and Hermione hesitated when they saw Ginny and Harry in an embrace, but Molly hurried to them. They both turned to her and, taking them in with a glance, she peered at Ginny’s cheek for a moment, but took Harry’s face in her hands.

“Darling,” she said softly, bending over him, “Ron and Saliyah both told us what happened. You are not to blame yourself. Sagittaria was a wonderful witch and a marvelous Auror, but she made a horrible mistake. It’s a tragedy, but it’s not your fault. It’s the fault of the people who killed her.”

Harry felt a bewildering mix of guilt and gratitude. He wanted to bury himself in her maternal bosom and let the world beat against her while he lay protected in her arms. He could not remember ever having that feeling before, and he looked at her and Ginny in confusion.

“I—I—” he stammered; Molly smiled.

“Don’t say anything, darling. Just promise me that you will not blame yourself.”

“I’ll try,” he mumbled.

She gave him a smothering hug. “Good. Now, where are those elves?”

“Elves? You don’t mean—”

There were two loud pops and Kreacher and Winky stood in the middle of the room; Kreacher had his new cap on, and they both held large trays piled with platters of eggs, bacon, toast, sausages, fruit, pitchers of pumpkin juice, a teapot, and a steaming carafe of coffee.

Arthur waved his wand and a table and six chairs appeared at the foot of Ginny’s bed. “Breakfast,” he announced.

“Saliyah locked down the village,” Ron explained as Harry and Ginny tucked in, while the others sipped coffee or tea. “Nobody can get in or out; she also put up an Apparition block, but it looks like it doesn’t affect house-elves.” He glanced at Kreacher and Winky standing by the door; they both looked at him contemptuously.

“So,” Hermione picked up, “we decided to bring you breakfast since the inn is closed. Actually,” she smirked at Ron, “it was Winky’s idea.”

“I readily grant that,” he replied, but before he could continue, Harry spoke.

“This is great, but what about Keesha? How is Neville doing? And what about the five Death Eaters they found?”

“Sorry,” Ron said. “Keesha’s parents are at The Three Broomsticks; they got here last night, and Neville is staying with them. There’s no sign of her. The five dead ones were part of the escape from Azkaban last summer, so that means there are only four left.“

“Plus Umbridge,” Harry said. “I’m sure she’s with them.”

“There’s no evidence of that,” Hermione said.

“We know it’s a witch. Were any of the dead Death Eaters witches?”

“One of them,” Ron said.

Harry grunted and frowned, then put down his fork. “Did Sagittaria have any relatives besides her mother?”

There was silence and the visitors glanced at each other.

“Sagittaria is the half-sister of Herlo and Jensarod Wilson,” Arthur finally said. “Elizabeth Derby’s uncles.”

“She was Elizabeth’s aunt?” Ginny said in astonishment. “Lizzie’s mother is a veela. Sagittaria didn’t look at all like that.”

“Sagittaria’s mother was married to Henry Slocum who died when Sagittaria was very young. Her mother Mary remarried Pascal Wilson a short time later, and they had three children, Herlo, Jensarod, and Anne, Elizabeth’s mother. Pascal must have been the one carrying the veela blood.”

Ginny also lay down her fork. “So now they lost their sister, and Sagittaria’s mother lost her granddaughter and her daughter.” She looked at Harry with concern; he was staring at his plate and Ginny took his hand. “Harry, it’s—”

“I’m okay,” he said. “But I want to see her mother.”

When Harry finished breakfast he left the castle with Ron and Hermione and went into the village; Madam Pomfrey said Ginny would have to stay for another two days, until it was certain that the curse had left no lingering aftereffects. When they walked past the place where the ambush had happened, they saw Aurors in the woods, along with other wizards and witches from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. When the Aurors spotted Harry walking along the lane, some of them stopped what they were doing and stared at him. Their faces seemed neutral, but it made Harry uncomfortable. Hermione took his hand and pulled him along while Ron glared back at the woods and the people in it. Aurors were also at the train station, and they, too, stared coolly at Harry. He started walking faster.

Matthew Matthewson was standing in front of The Three Broomsticks and watched the three approach. Harry avoided his eyes, but the Auror stepped in front of him before Harry could enter.

“Are you all right, son?” he asked. “How is Miss Weasley?”

Harry looked at him gratefully. “I’m fine, sir, and so is Ginny. I—I’m—”

“Listen to me, Harry,” Matthewson said in a low voice. “It was not your fault. As soon as people understand that, they won’t hold it against you. From what I heard, you did an excellent job protecting your charges. That Patronus of yours must have been magnificent.” He glanced at Ron and Hermione and leaned in very close to Harry, dropping his voice further. “Don’t listen to what people say. This will be a test, and I know you’ll pass it.”

“Thank you,” Harry murmured. “I’ll do my best.”

The Auror nodded and let them pass. “Miss Ushujaa is inside with the Minister. They want to talk to you.”

The inn was crowded with Aurors, Ministry officials, and citizens of Hogsmeade; none of the latter looked happy. Tony and Monitor Twohill, the proprietor of Dervish and Banges, were having an animated discussion with Percy who had his hands up in a placating gesture that didn’t seem to be doing much good.

Harry spotted Saliyah and Kingsley in the back talking to a nervous Stan Shunpike. He pushed his way past people to the table where the Minister was sitting, and he looked up as Harry stood next to Stan.

“Harry, how are you and Ginny? We need to talk.” He waved, dismissing Stan; the barkeep gave Harry a nervous smile and walked to the door, where he was joined by Harriet Smythe; they left together.

Harry watched them and turned to the Minister. “Stan had nothing to do with it. Why were you talking to him?”

Shacklebolt raised his eyebrows, but paused before speaking. “No particular reason,” he finally said. “At one time he was acquainted with all of the, uh, deceased. We just wanted to know what he remembered about them.”

“Sorry,” Harry muttered. “I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“That’s all right. Everyone is under a strain.” Kingsley nodded in the direction of Percy, who was now backed into a corner by the burly contractor. “They want the village re-opened, but we can’t do that until we have a better idea of what happened.” He peered at Harry.

Saliyah gestured with her wand and three chairs pulled away from the table; Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat.

“Would you like something to drink?” Saliyah asked. When they indicated not, she sat too. “How are you doing this morning?” she asked Harry.

He shrugged, knowing exactly what she meant. “I’d like to see Sagittaria’s mother.”

“Of course. She’s in London. We sent the body back there. I think you should see her as soon as possible.”

Kingsley leaned forward. “Harry, I can’t hide the fact that I have a personal interest in what happened. My sister is upstairs, and she can’t stop crying. Can you think of anything that can help us?”

“Find Dolores Umbridge and you’ll find Keesha. You’ll probably also find Turquoise Southeby and Pansy Parkinson to boot.”

“Pansy Parkinson?” The Minister frowned. “What’s she got to do with it?”

Saliyah spoke. “She sold off some of the Darkness Powder to Caractacus Burke. Harry helped on that one.”

Kingsley thought for a moment. “Why do you think Umbridge is the one? I haven’t seen any evidence linking her to this.”

“She’s a sadistic toad and she hates me. She tried to break me when she was running Hogwarts but she failed because I wouldn’t let her. She was about to torture and maybe murder Hermione and me, but the centaurs got her first. And before all that she set two dementors on me, and by the way, I’d like to know why the Ministry never said anything about that.”

Kingsley sat back before Harry’s verbal onslaught. “Harry,” he frowned, “all that may be true, but it’s no proof or even evidence that she’s—”

Saliyah put her hand on Kingsley’s. “Just a minute. Everything that’s happened up here has been directed against Harry. Umbridge may be on the loose, but she has no chance of doing anything except cause some mayhem, and she may very well want to take Harry down in the process. It’s a perfectly valid operating hypothesis.”

“Then where does everything stand now? Is Hogsmeade safe? What about Hogwarts?”

“I thought we had discussed that.”

“Are you going to seal the school?” Hermione said; Harry jerked his head to look at the Minister.

He frowned. “Miss Granger, I must request that none of you mention that possibility away from this table. We have talked about it, but no decision has been reached. Besides, the final decision belongs to the Headmistress.”

Hermione sat back, but Harry looked from the Minister to the Auror. “What are you going to do?”

The Minister raised his eyebrows again, but this time did not pause. “When we decide, you’ll know. Now, is there anything else you can think of that might help us? Did you hear or see anything last night that would give us any clue about anything?”

“Yes,” Harry said. “Someone watched us from the Post Office. I saw the curtain in the upstairs room move as we walked past.”

Saliyah nodded. “We found footprints up there. You didn’t actually see them, did you?”

Hermione spoke before Harry could answer. “If nine Death Eaters escaped from prison, and five were killed last night, and if Neville and Luna both said they heard four pops when they Disapparated, then the person in the Post Office had to be Umbridge. Is there no way of testing the room?”

Kingsley smiled for the first time. “Very good. We’ll see what we can do.” He stood, followed by the others. “Why don’t you three go upstairs and see how Mr. Longbottom is doing. Maybe it would be a good idea to go back to The Hog’s Head after that and wait there. We’ll know where to find you if we need you.”

Harry was not happy with being summarily dismissed, nor with Kingsley’s suggestion to wait at the inn, but he saw no way to get out of it. He had already got the Minister for Magic annoyed, and given those cool looks he had received from several Aurors, he didn’t think it a good idea to be on Kingsley’s bad side at this moment.

They went upstairs and found Neville in a room with Keesha’s mother. She was sitting in a chair by the window; her eyes were red and puffy. Neville stood next to her, looking out at the muddy street and the Aurors patrolling up and down.

Mrs. Baker’s face lit up when she saw them. “Oh, Harry, are you all right? How is Ginny? I’m so sorry she got hurt. Did . . . did you learn anything about . . .?”

Harry shook his head. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Baker.”

Her face fell and she turned to the window and began to weep. “My baby is out there. I want her back.” Neville bent over and hugged her. When he straightened, his eyes were damp.

“What do you think?” he asked, looking at Harry. “Do you have any idea where they took her? I don’t think they would hurt her; they would try to get to Kingsley through her, wouldn’t they?” He sounded desperate.

“I think you’re right,” Harry said. “And I’m pretty sure I know where she is—” Mrs. Baker rose halfway out of her chair, her eyes wide with hope “—but it’s protected by a Fidelius.”

She fell back into her chair, deflated, and stared out the window again.

Neville put his hand on her shoulder. “Keesha’s dad is out with some Aurors looking around, but I guess they won’t find anything.”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood uncomfortably for a few moments. Finally Harry spoke.

“Mrs. Baker, I just want you to know that I’m not going to sit around and wait for something to happen. I know the general location of the house they’re using and I’m going to keep looking for it. I promise you I’ll get her back.”

“I’m coming with you,” Neville said.

“Good. That’ll be great.”

They started to leave when Mrs. Baker turned her head. “Thank you, Harry,” she said in a quavering voice. “I know you’ll find her.” Harry nodded and they left.

“Why did you tell her that?” Hermione asked as they descended the stairs. “You’ll never find it, you know that.”

“You don’t know that,” Harry retorted. “They’ve made plenty of mistakes already, so maybe they’ll make another one.”

“You got her hopes up, Harry. What will you do if you can’t find Keesha?”

They came into the downstairs room, which was now almost empty. Harry looked around for Saliyah and Kingsley but all he saw were a few Aurors sitting at tables. He turned to Hermione.

“The poor woman was beside herself. What did you want me to say, that Keesha will never be found? I don’t believe that.”

Hermione started twisting her fingers together. “I’m sorry, Harry, please don’t be angry. When we heard that Ginny had been hurt, I didn’t know what to think. This has been going on for months, since last summer. No one’s done anything, and now it’s come to this.” Despite her anguish, she had a hard look on her face and lowered her voice; her fingers kept twisting. “I haven’t told this to anyone but Ron, but I’ve decided to quit the Arithmancy Institute. They’re a bunch of stuck-up theoreticians with absolutely no idea of what’s going on in the world. Even if their ideas work, they’ll keep dithering and dathering and it will be years before it does any good.” She faced Harry and put her hands on her hips. “I’m putting in an application to join the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I’m going to be your boss someday, Harry.”

Harry stared at her while an urge to laugh started building. It burst out and Hermione glowered.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said, trying to put on a straight face. “You were just so—so—so like yourself.” He started laughing again, and Ron had to quickly wipe the grin from his own face when Hermione turned to him.

“The two of you will pay for this,” she said darkly, and tried to hide her own smile when Ron hugged her.

“I know we will,” he laughed. “And whatever horrible punishment you devise will be well worth it.”

They all laughed, and the two looked at Harry. “Now what?” said Ron.

Harry walked to a table where two Aurors he didn’t know were talking. “Excuse me,” he said, “do you know where Minister Shacklebolt is?”

The Aurors gazed at him. One of them pursed her lips, shook her head, and turned away. Harry was about to answer testily when Ron pulled his arm and pointed out the window; Kingsley and Saliyah were walking rapidly down the High Street towards the train station.

They caught up to them just as they were entering the station. Kingsley didn’t wait, but went inside and closed the door behind him. Saliyah spoke to Harry.

“It’s not a good time to talk to him. They found Keesha’s cloak and wand about a mile down the lane that runs behind your inn. There was no blood,” she responded to their shocked faces, “and we couldn’t detect any magic on the cloak aside from the Stunning spell from last night. It was torn, so it looks like she was putting up a fight.”

“Someone should tell her mother,” said Hermione.

“Hip—I mean, Mr. Baker was the one who found them. There’s nothing more to do here. You should all go back to The Hog’s Head. We’ll let you know if we need you.”

“I’ll be at Hogwarts,” Harry said. “Ginny has to stay in the hospital wing for another two days.”

Saliyah looked at him uncomfortably. “I’m sorry, Harry. The school is sealed. Professor McGonagall told us ten minutes ago. No one can get in or out, not even me or Kingsley.”

“She can’t do that!” Harry exclaimed angrily. “I was going to stay with Ginny!” He turned and stalked away.

“It’s no good!” the Auror called after him. “You can’t get in!”

“We’ll take him back to the inn,” Hermione said before she and Ron followed.

Harry was standing in the middle of the tracks staring at the flying boars, visible in the distance. “This really sucks. Who knows when McGonagall will decide to open it up again. Who’s going to take care of Ginny?”

“Were your parents going to stay?” Hermione asked Ron; he shook his head.

Harry sighed. “Well, let’s go back to the inn. Maybe . . .” He glanced quickly at Hermione before striding off towards the village, leaving his friends scratching their heads at each other.

Harry went up the High Street, not looking aside at any of the Aurors who watched him pass. It was fortunate, he thought to himself with a silent chuckle, that he had so often been the object of barefaced curiosity; looks like those didn’t bother him. And as long as he had the confidence of Saliyah, Kingsley, and his teachers, he could care less what anyone thought. He might not have completely reconciled himself to Saliyah’s exoneration of his action during the battle, but he was damned if he was going to let himself fall into the black pit again, not after watching over Ginny all night and waking up with her smiling face and brown eyes looking at him.

Nearing the post office, he heard Ron and Hermione catching up, and stopped, peering at the window on the upper floor. The curtain was pulled back; people were moving around inside. He pointed when Ron and Hermione came up.

“Saliyah said there were footprints, and somehow, whoever was up there told the Death Eaters by the lane that we were coming.”

“A Patronus,” Ron said.

“You mean, like what the Order used?” Harry looked at him doubtfully.

“Why not? It’s not that well-kept a secret. Remember that file on my dad that you saw in Umbridge’s office? You said it mentioned the Order, so if they knew that, why not other things?”

“Her Patronus was a big cat of some kind, wasn’t it?” Harry said to Hermione.

“Yes, it was a horrid cat that purred every time the dementors took someone away.” She made a face. “I wish I had had Crookshanks there to sic on it.”

“Can you detect an Expecto Patronum charm after it’s been cast?” Harry asked.

 “Dunno,” Ron said, “but it’s worth asking.”

They went inside; no one was on the first floor, so they went into the back and found the staircase. When they got upstairs and walked to the front room they saw three Aurors with their wands drawn. When the Aurors saw who it was, they stowed their wands.

“What are you doing here, Potter?” one of them said; he was tall and sturdy with a small goatee. The other two were silent. All three exuded hostility.

“We wanted to find out if someone produced a Patronus in here yesterday. We think they might have passed information that way.”

“That’s what you think? Why don’t you go home and think about something else, like Sagittaria Slocum lying dead because you were thinking with what’s between your legs instead of your brain.”

A hot reply was on Harry’s lips, but Ron stepped in front of him. “Why don’t you shut up, Popeye, at least until you know what you’re talking about.”

“Why you little weasel.” The Auror took a step towards Ron, but one of the others grabbed his arm.

“Hold it,” the second one said, scowling. “What do you mean by that, Weasley?” He was shorter than the first but just as solid.

“I mean Sagittaria Slocum broke every rule in the book.” He held up his hand when the first Auror’s face flushed. “I’m not making excuses for Harry, but it wasn’t his fault.”

“That’s a load of horseshit,” the Auror snarled. “She was one of the best. This one—” he pointed at Harry “—killed her as sure as if he shot that Curse himself.”

Harry took Ron’s arm. “Come on, mate, we can ask someone else. We won’t get any answers here.” He started to pull Ron away, and Hermione, looking frightened, pushed him.

Ron let himself be led down the stairs. The three Aurors watched them go; the trio could hear them talking heatedly until they closed the back door and started across the field towards The Hog’s Head.

“Popeye?” Harry looked quizzically at Ron as they trudged through the snow.

Ron chuckled. “His name is something like Popantonovich. Everyone calls him Popeye after some Muggle movie character.”

“Do you know what this means, Hermione?” Harry said. “It means you’ll be his boss too someday.”

Hermione smiled. “I look forward to it.”

They entered the dining room. Stan was behind the bar, and a look of relief came over his face when he saw Harry. They sat at the bar and Stan handed Harry a copy of the _Daily Prophet_. His and Sagittaria’s photos were on the front page under the large headline, _Auror Killed In Hogsmeade; Target Was Potter_. Harry took a look at it and threw it back on the counter. “Just what I need,” he sighed. “Are you okay, Stan?”

“Yeah. They thought I knew some of those blokes that were killed, but I never talked to any of them. I tried to ‘ave as little to do with all of them as I could.”

“Well, let me know if they start bothering you.” Harry looked around. “Where is Kreacher?”

“In the kitchen. ‘e came back a couple of hours ago.”

“I need to ask him something.” Harry got off his stool and looked at Hermione. “I’m asking him to do something you might not like, so if you don’t want to hear it, then wait here.”

Hermione thought, while Ron and Stan looked at Harry with identically furrowed brows. After a very short moment, she said, “You’re going to ask him to get Ginny.”

“No, just to take me there. If she wants to leave, we’ll bring her back, but I can’t ask her to leave school in the middle of the week with everything sealed up.”

Hermione sighed. “Okay. I can’t tell you to stay away from Ginny. Just promise you won’t force him to do it.”

“I can’t force him. He’s free. But, hey, if you can think of another way to get in, let me know. I can’t go near the Shrieking Shack with all those Aurors around, even if the tunnel is still open.”

Hermione looked unhappy, but followed Harry and Ron into the kitchen. The two elves were sitting on the floor with their backs against the stove; they watched as Harry approached and squatted in front of them.

“Kreacher,” he said solemnly, “I have a favor to ask of you. If you don’t want to do it, that’s okay.”

The old elf reached up, grasped the oven handle, and, with a grunt, pulled himself up. “What does Harry Potter wish Kreacher to do?”

“Professor McGonagall has sealed Hogwarts. Can you Disapparate there and take me with you?”

A small smile crossed the elf’s wizened face, and his large bat-like ears quivered. “Of course, Harry Potter. If an elf such as Dobby could do it, then certainly Kreacher can. When would Harry Potter like to go see Ginny Weasley?”

Harry grinned up at Ron and Hermione. “This afternoon. And if she wants to come back here, can you bring both of us?”

“Of course Kreacher can.”

Harry thought for a moment. “I can check on the map before we go, to make sure she’s alone.”

The elf bowed. “Kreacher is not needing a map. Harry Potter will be at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as quick as Harry Potter gives the word.”


	42. A Brown Scarf and Pink Hair

After lunch Harry went up to the flat to fetch his Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder’s Map. He was in the bedroom taking the Cloak from his dresser when he heard two Apparition pops in back of the inn. He looked out the window and saw George and Lee peer around and walk to the front of the inn. Harry hurried downstairs and came into the dining room through the kitchen door as George and Lee were coming in the front. Ron and Hermione looked at them in astonishment.

‘How on earth did you get here?” Ron exclaimed. “The village is closed.”

“It’s called Ap-pa-ri-tion, young one,” George said. “You know, Destination, Deliberation, Determination. It also helps to be a property owner in the burg.”

“You bought Zonko’s!” Ron grinned, jumping up. “Brilliant!”

Harry walked over and stood with a puzzled look. “But how did you do it? Did they take the anti-Apparition charm off?”

“Obviously, younger one,” George replied. “We may be good, but we’re not that good. They opened the village as soon as Hogwarts was sealed. Speaking of which, how is Ginny?”

“She was fine this morning, and I’m about to go see how she’s doing.”

George came to Harry and put his arm around his shoulders, ignoring Lee’s attempt to stop him.

“Harry, my lad, I had a feeling that Minerva McGonagall would be no match for your passion for my sister. But I’m wondering if you could perform a service for the firm of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, soon to open a branch in Hogsmeade. We have a few advertising notices we wouldn’t mind being posted in each of the common rooms.”

Harry frowned. “George, are you aware that an Auror is dead and Keesha Baker is missing?”

George stared at him for a moment, then slumped into a chair; he sighed and glanced up at Harry. “Sorry, mate,” he said in a quiet voice. “I get carried away. Of course I know.”

There was an awkward silence; Hermione bent down and put a kiss on George’s cheek. “It’s great news about Zonko’s. So you came up here to start setting it up?” George just shrugged and stared at the tabletop.

“Actually, we’re here to find someone to run it for us,” Lee said. “We’ve been planning for a month, and we decided to come up even with all this going on.”

“George, I’m sorry,” Harry said, chagrined for being so abrupt. “I’m a little on edge, that’s all. I want to get back to see Ginny.”

George gave Harry a weak smile. “Sure. Can you tell her I’m here? Maybe I can go see her when they open the castle. We’ll be here for a couple of weeks.”

“I’ll tell her.”

“So,” George grinned, recovering some of his spirits, “you figured a way to get in. What is it?”

“Ap-pa-ri-tion,” Harry grinned back, and waited while George knitted his brow.

The kitchen door opened and Kreacher shuffled in, carrying a tray of mugs to the bar. He handed them up to Stan and went back into the kitchen.

“You’re doing Side-Along with a house-elf,” George said. “That’s genius! McGonagall will never think of that.” He looked at Lee. “You don’t happen to have a house-elf on you? Sorry,” he said to Harry. “I’ll shut up.”

When Harry went into the kitchen with Ron and Hermione to get Kreacher, he asked Ron, “Is George always like that? It’s painful.”

“I know,” Ron said unhappily, “and he knows it too. It’s getting worse.”

“That’s because the anniversary of the battle is coming up,” Hermione said. “I’ll bet your mum is starting to have feelings too.”

“Will they be okay?” Harry asked. “I really feel badly for him. It’s like he’s trying to do a comedy routine that includes Fred.”

“I’ll talk to him,” said Ron, “but I think the only person he really opens up to is Ginny, and maybe Angelina.”

Harry looked over at Kreacher who was standing near the back door watching them. “I’d better be going.”

He took out the map and saw that Madam Pomfrey was in the hospital wing with Ginny, but with a touch of annoyance he saw another dot in a bed on the other side of the room; it was Emma Athair, and as he watched, Claire’s dot entered the room and stopped next to her bed.

“Drat,” he muttered. “What’s she doing there? She must be sick.” He went over to Kreacher. “We’ll have to Apparate someplace else in the castle. How about . . . here?” He pointed to the stairwell of the Astronomy Tower. “No one will be there during the day. Can you do that?”.

The elf nodded solemnly. “Kreacher is ready.”

Harry turned to the other two. “I’ll be back for dinner.”

“We’ll be waiting,” Ron said.

Kreacher reached up, Harry took his hand, and they were standing in the dim stairwell of the Astronomy Tower.

“Thanks!” Harry whispered, squeezing the elf’s hand. “I’ll call you when I’m ready.” Kreacher gave a bow and was gone.

Harry checked the map and waited while three students passed outside the door, then slipped under the Cloak, went out into the corridor, and made his way up to the hospital wing. Claire was still there with Emma, but Madam Pomfrey was in her office. Harry quietly opened the door and stepped inside. He tip-toed to Ginny’s bed; she was sitting up with a Potions textbook in her lap and a parchment and quill on the small table next to her. He picked up her quill and wrote on the parchment, “I love you.”

Ginny hadn’t noticed the quill moving, but the parchment floating through the air got her attention. She gave a start, looked around, and suddenly extended her arm and grabbed Harry’s wrist which was under the cloak. The cloak slipped off his shoulders and they grinned at each other.

“How on earth did you get in?” Ginny whispered with a glance at the nurse’s office. “They sealed the castle, or at least that’s what Emma said.”

Harry looked across the way. Emma in the bed and Claire sitting next to her in a chair gaped at them. Harry put his finger to his lips; they nodded and Claire giggled.

Harry turned back to Ginny; he kept the Cloak wrapped around his body and spoke in a low voice.

“I Apparated here with Kreacher.” He told her everything that had happened since he, Ron, and Hermione had left the castle, including the hostility he had encountered from the Aurors, and George and Lee’s arrival. “The village is open again. They bought Zonko’s and they’re looking for someone to run it for them. George was . . . kind of strange.”

“How so? Is he okay?”

“No. It’s Fred, of course. Hermione reminded us that it’s only a few weeks till the anniversary of the battle. George made some jokes, but they were pretty inappropriate.”

“I have to go see him. Damn. Pomfrey won’t let me out until she’s sure the curse is completely gone; she’s giving me some kind of potion later. Can I get out of the castle with you?”

“Yes, I asked Kreacher if he could do that. But Gin, you’ll get into trouble again.”

“Harry, he’s my brother, he needs me. I have to go see him.”

“Then we’ll figure out a way. We used the Astronomy Tower; no one’s there during the day, so maybe we can meet there.”

Ginny took his hand and, with a glance at the twins who were watching raptly, Harry leaned over and kissed her. “I miss you,” he said as he nuzzled her neck.

“Me, too. But Harry, what about those Aurors you mentioned, and that Popeye bloke? Can’t they see that it wasn’t your fault?”

Harry sighed. “Well, it _was_ my fault. Even if Sagittaria did something wrong, it would never have happened if I hadn’t lost my temper. I put everyone in danger.”

“You never told me exactly why you did that. And there’s something else.” She glanced at the wall behind her bed; there was a slight dent in it at chest level. “Mum and Dad told me you hurt your hand. Harry, did you punch that wall?”

Harry bit his lip; he was filled with a mixture of feelings: guilt, sorrow, shame, and strangely, love. He rubbed the back of his right hand, the one he had hit the wall with, and looked into her eyes.

“Ginny, I did punch the wall. I’m sorry. I was sure that I had killed Sagittaria and I was going to be kicked out of the program. I felt so ashamed. I didn’t know what was going to happen to me. I was . . . terrified. I just stood up and punched it without thinking.”

Ginny reached up and put her hand on his cheek. “Oh, Harry, don’t be sorry. _I’m_ sorry I wasn’t there for you.” She picked up his hand and examined it. “What happened? Did it hurt?”

Harry chuckled. “I broke it, probably in three or four places. It hurt like hell. Madam Pomfrey put a charm on it and bandaged it. It only took a couple of hours to heal. She yelled at me too.”

“Good,” Ginny smiled. “You deserved it.”

Harry laughed. “Well, thanks. Your mum gave me a big hug, and so did Hermione.”

Ginny was about to say something when the door to Madam Pomfrey’s office opened. Harry ducked down next to the bed and pulled the Cloak over himself.

The nurse stuck her head out the door. “Is everyone all right?”

“We’re fine,” Ginny called. She looked at the twins, and they both nodded vigorously. The nurse smiled and went back inside.

Ginny peered over the side of her bed. “The coast is clear, Mr. Boxing Champion.”

The twins giggled as Harry pulled the cloak off and sat up on the floor. “Maybe I should stay down here. She can’t see me if she comes out.”

“Suit yourself. But the bed is more comfortable.”

Harry grunted, stood, and sat on the edge of Ginny’s bed; he still had the cloak wrapped around his shoulders, and the twins giggled again when they saw his detached head floating in the air. “So why are you in here?” he asked Emma.

“We snuck into the Forbidden Forest and I tried to ride Buckbeak,” she answered. “I bowed just like Hagrid told us, and he was going to let me ride but I fell off. I got a big bruise on my rear-end.” Emma turned pink as both of the twins started laughing.

Harry glanced at the nurse’s office, but the door remained closed. “Merlin,” he said, “you two are worse than I was. I didn’t start sneaking into the Forest until my second year.”

“That’s what Hagrid said,” Claire laughed.

“I thought Hagrid taught about hippogriffs in the third year. How did you know about bowing and all that?”

“We kept bugging him,” Claire said. “Zoro told us how you used Buckbeak to rescue your godfather, so we decided we’d like to try it.”

“How did Zoro know? He wasn’t here then.”

“He said everyone in his family talks about it. Or at least the nice ones do.”

Smiling, Harry turned to Ginny. “So how are you doing? Do you need anything?”

“No. Demelza and Dennis got my books and writing stuff.” She indicated a pile of textbooks on a desk near the office. “But you didn’t answer my other question. What made you so angry out there that you had to take a risk like that?”

“I know I shouldn’t have; it was really stupid. I was lying on top of you, and—”

“You were?” Ginny looked surprised. “No one told me that. Sweetie, that’s—”

“Ginny, I never thought about it, I just did it. I wasn’t going to let anything else happen to you. But . . .  but when my stag was in front of us I lit my wand to see your face, and one of the Death Eaters started laughing, and he called you . . .”

Harry stopped; he couldn’t say it. Instead he shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Sagittaria is dead, and everyone knows what happened. I was getting all kinds of nasty looks from Aurors. I don’t know what’s going to happen. Maybe Saliyah won’t want me to be Head Auror anymore.”

“Love.” She groped with her hand towards his invisible body, found his arm underneath the cloak, and squeezed it. “Do you know why she and Kingsley want you for that job? It isn’t because you can shoot a dozen spells while everyone else is just shooting one, or because you make good friends so easily with magical creatures like Buckbeak, or anything like that. It’s because people like Hermione and Ron and Dennis and Neville and Seamus—and me—would follow you anywhere and do anything you asked. If you stop to think about it, there hasn’t been anyone like that in charge of things for a really long time. Kingsley and Saliyah know that. And they know that you are a good person, maybe one who makes mistakes sometimes, but a really good person who knows how to learn so he doesn’t make those mistakes again.”

Before Harry could speak, Madam Pomfrey’s door opened again, and he barely got his head under the cloak before she walked into the room.

“Were you talking to someone? Is someone else in here?” she said as she approached Ginny, frowning slightly.

Ginny shook her head; she could feel Harry slowly climb off the bed. The nurse looked around the room. “I could swear I heard a boy talking.” She turned and walked slowly back; at her office door she scanned the room again and went inside. This time she left the door open.

Harry’s head appeared next to Ginny’s bed. “This isn’t working,” he whispered. “I wanted to stay until dinner, but she’s bound to figure out what’s going on.”

“Can’t you use that spell you learned from the Half-Blood Prince?” Ginny whispered back. “Muffin toes?”

“Muffliato. It makes your ears buzz, so it would only make her more suspicious.”

“Well, just sit here then; we don’t have to talk. I like having you here, even if I can’t see you.”

“Okay. I like it too.”

Ginny felt the bed sink next to her as Harry sat. She smiled in the general direction of the weight, and started reading her Potions textbook. Across the room, Emma and Claire stared at them; they put their heads together and began whispering and giggling. After a few minutes Harry pulled the cloak from his head.

“This is stupid,” he whispered. “I thought we’d be able to talk and . . . whatever. Maybe I can come back tonight. I could sleep in a bed at the other end of the room.”

Ginny caressed his face. “Harry, that’s silly. Come back during dinner, but you don’t have to sleep here. I think Emma isn’t staying long, so we can be alone for a while.” She kissed him.

Harry pulled her closer and gave her a much more satisfying kiss. “That’s a good idea,” he whispered. “There’s some things I can do in the village. I want to talk to Neville, and maybe we can poke around in the Post Office, see if we can find anything.”

“Yes, do that. And tell George I’ll come see him as soon as I can.” She thought a minute. “Make it Wednesday evening.” They kissed goodbye, Harry waved a disembodied hand at Emma and Claire, put the Cloak back over his head, and left.

He returned to the Astronomy Tower, and in seconds had summoned Kreacher and was back in the Hog’s Head kitchen. The dining room had a few customers, most of them sitting at the bar talking about recent events, and Ron and Hermione were at a table in the back. Harry greeted the customers, all of whom asked how he and Ginny were doing, and joined his friends.

“Didn’t expect you back so soon,” Ron said. “Is Ginny okay?”

“She’s fine but Pomfrey won’t let her out yet. We couldn’t really talk because she kept coming out and looking around. I’ll go back during dinner. Ginny wants to come see George. Where is he?”

“Over at Zonko’s. And tomorrow we’re supposed to be back in class. Professor Matthewson stopped in; he was looking for you and he told me they weren’t going to do anything different, it’ll be a normal schedule.”

Harry grunted. “Did you hear anybody talk about it?”

Ron and Hermione knew he was referring to the death of Sagittaria. “As a matter of fact,” Ron said with a small smile, “the afternoon edition of the _Prophet_ has another story, and methinks it was planted by Saliyah Ushujaa. It says you were trying to protect Ginny, Neville, and Luna, and Sagittaria then tried to protect you but somehow got hit with the Killing Curse.”

“But that’s not right!” Harry said with a frown. “It’ll make her look like a screw-up. _I_ was the one who screwed up.”

“But she _did_ screw up. There’s no reason why that should be hidden, any more than what you did. If Saliyah did plant the story, she’s just trying to make sure all the facts come out.”

“I don’t like it, and I’m going to tell her I don’t.”

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” Hermione asked. “She didn’t just do it for you, she also has to justify making you her assistant. She can’t retract the story now, or come back and say ‘Harry Potter says that he did something stupid, but I’m still going to make him Head Auror.’ I think you should just let it be.”

Harry gave a little sigh of exasperation. “You are right, I admit, but I still don’t like it.”

“That’s your privilege.” Hermione sniffed, a touch miffed.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said, “but the story is about me, not you. You saw those Aurors out there; do you think they’re going to buy the line that it was Sagittaria’s fault?”

“As a matter of fact,” Ron said, “Popeye was here about half an hour ago. He said he wanted to talk to you, and his attitude seemed a little different.”

“He wanted to see me? Where?”

“He said he’d catch you later. I told him you were busy.”

Harry got up. “I have to talk to George. Ginny will have to sneak out of school to see him, and we have to arrange someplace where she won’t be seen.”

“We’re heading home soon. Let us know if anything happens tonight. I’ll see you at the Ministry tomorrow.”

“And thanks for letting us stay in your flat,” Hermione added. “It’s very comfortable.”

“It is that,” Harry grinned.

He left the inn and walked to Zonko’s, almost directly across the High Street from the lane. The temperature had risen, and the snow that had fallen in the mid-March storm was rapidly melting, creating large mud puddles everywhere. Harry was crossing the street when he heard his name called and turned. Popeye was walking towards him through the mud, his hands shoved in his pockets, an inscrutable expression on his face. Harry stopped and faced him.

The Auror halted a couple of yards from Harry. He glanced around and Harry followed his gaze. Two or three groups of Aurors stood down the street, all watching.

“Listen, Potter,” he said gruffly, “I talked to Ushujaa, or rather she talked to a bunch of us. She told us what happened last night, what Sagittaria did. When I saw you up in the Post Office, I didn’t know. I’m—”

“That’s okay, it’s no problem,” Harry interrupted. “Look, I’m not proud of what I did, and if I had to do it over, I wouldn’t. I have to live with it.”

The Auror peered at him; his gaze made Harry uncomfortable, but he didn’t flinch. Popeye glanced down the street again, and some of the Aurors who had been watching turned away. “How did you get your Patronus to do that?” he asked in a low voice. “No one’s ever heard of a Patronus deflecting spells.”

“I never saw it before either, so I can’t tell you. I didn’t conjure it, anyway.”

The Auror looked at him in disbelief. “Then who did?”

“Ginny.” Harry ignored the doubled disbelief on Popeye’s face. “Her engagement ring summons my stag.”

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not joking. I don’t know how it happened, but she’s summoned it four times.”

“I thought she was unconscious,” the Auror frowned, “but maybe that’s part of the bull that’s in the papers.”

“She was unconscious, but I put the ring to her lips and the stag came.”

Popeye shook his head. “I don’t know, Potter. I believe you, but it sounds too good to be true.”

“I don’t know what else to tell you. It saved our lives. Except for Sagittaria.”

“Yeah, well. I just wanted to tell you that everyone knows now what happened.” He nodded to Harry and walked away.

Harry also turned and went up the three steps that led into Zonko’s. The door wasn’t locked, and when Harry walked in, George, Lee, and Harriet Smythe were standing at a window; they had obviously been watching his conversation with Popeye.

“Having a chat with the nice Auror?” George asked. “Wasn’t that the chap who threatened you, according to Ron?”

“It’s fine,” Harry replied. “He apologized. I told him he didn’t have to.”

He looked around the empty shop. He hadn’t been in Zonko’s Joke Shop in years; there were no display cabinets or shelves; apparently they had all been removed when old Zonko, or whoever had owned it, quit and boarded it up. “It’s just a shell,” he observed. “Was any of the stock left?”

“Nothing,” George said. “But stock isn’t the problem. The shop in Diagon Alley is busting at the seams. The problem was finding someone to run it, but I think we have our solution right here.”

Harry grinned at Harriet. “Do you know what you’re getting into? These two gits are nutters. Make sure they give you a year’s salary in advance.”

“Now that’s not fair!” George said. “We may be cheap, but we’re cheap honorably.”

Harriet laughed. “Stan and I always visit Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes when we’re in London. When I heard they were looking for a manager, I thought, Why not?”

“Plus, she and Stan can string two tin cans across the High Street and talk to each other,” George smiled. “So it works out for everyone.”

Harry chuckled. “I’m really glad that you’re doing this,” he said to Harriet. “It’ll mean a lot to Stan, I’m sure.” Harriet blushed.

Harry turned to George. “Can I talk to you?” He indicated the back of the store. They walked away a few steps, and Harry told him that Ginny would come see him as soon as she could, probably Wednesday evening. “She’s worried about you,” Harry said. “It’s a tough time for everyone, but you have the toughest row to hoe.”

George had turned quite sober, and he nodded. “Thanks, mate. She can come here. We’ll have a couple of sticks of furniture by then. I appreciate it, I really do.”

Harry returned to the inn. Ron and Hermione had left, so he went up to the flat and got out the Marauder’s Map. Ginny was now alone in the hospital wing; Emma and Claire were back in their room in Gryffindor Tower. The nurse was in her office, but Harry decided to wait until dinner before returning; Pomfrey would be in the Great Hall, and he and Ginny would have a half-hour or more of privacy.

It was only three o’clock, so he walked down to The Three Broomsticks to look for Neville. He found him sitting in the dining room by himself nursing a butterbeer, looking tired with bloodshot eyes. He waved briefly when he saw Harry.

“There’s no news anywhere,” he said morosely. “They pulled most of the Aurors out of the village. Kingsley’s still upstairs with Keesha’s mum and dad.” He stared grimly at his bottle. “I couldn’t sleep last night, and I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight. Harry, if they hurt her, I’ll kill them, all of them.”

“I know how you feel,” Harry said. “Come on, give me a hand. I want to poke around in the Post Office. I think Umbridge was up there when we walked past, and maybe she used a Patronus to let the Death Eaters know we were coming.”

Neville heaved himself up and they went back to the Post Office. The building was empty; it had not reopened yet after the Minister had ordered the village shut down. Upstairs, Harry peered out the window onto the High Street; it was an ordinary casement window with grimy curtains that had once been white, perhaps. There was a small desk, a chair, a table pushed up against the wall, and a closet. They looked inside the desk and closet, and underneath the table. The closet was empty except for a wooden clothes hanger. The desk contained a couple of quills and an inkpot in which the ink had dried out, leaving a small lump of black clay-like substance. They took the drawers out and peered into the openings, looking for secret compartments. They found nothing.

Harry wasn’t even sure what they were looking for, maybe just some clue that a careless Death Eater or someone else had left behind. The room was drafty and cold, thoroughly depressing; it had an air of disuse and neglect, and after fifteen minutes of fruitless searching they left it.

There were only two other rooms upstairs, a tiny bathroom and a cozier room with a fireplace and a cot; this was the place, Harry thought to himself, where Turquoise had seduced Morequest Pester, or the other way around. They gave it a cursory examination and went back downstairs.

“Do you know any spells that can detect if someone used their wand here?” Neville asked. “Do they teach you anything like that?”

“They will,” Harry replied as he poked his head inside the small owlery. There were a dozen owls on perches, and they all turned their wide eyes on him; one or two stretched and fluttered their wings. He shut the door and sighed. “I don’t know how to do that yet, but hopefully the Aurors checked it out. Well, there’s nothing in here. Why don’t you come back to the Hog’s Head? We can have supper together.”

They went out the back door into the field that stretched from the front of the Hog’s Head Inn down to the railroad tracks, a quarter mile away. The field still had snow on it, but with bare patches where the warming sun had melted it away. They walked around the muddy spots as they made their way to the inn, and were detouring past a large puddle when Neville stopped.

“What’s that?” He pointed to an object lying half-covered by snow, about twenty yards away.

They walked over to it; it appeared that it had been hidden under the snow and became exposed with the melting. Harry picked it up. It was a brown scarf, and when he Scourgified it, they saw that it was decorated with red stars and moons.

“I’ve seen this before,” he said, knitting his brow and thinking. Neville watched him for a moment, but wandered away, searching the ground for anything else that might be lying there. He came back to Harry, who looked at him with narrowed eyes. “This is Turquoise Southeby’s. I saw her wearing it the day Ginny and I tried to follow her home.”

“So it was her in the window,” said Neville. “She must know how to send a Patronus with a message.”

“I find that hard to believe, but you’re right, it must have been her.” He looked around the field. “It was still pretty windy when we got to The Three Broomsticks, so if that’s when she left the Post Office, I guess her scarf could have blown off, and she didn’t want to light her wand to look for it. Then it got covered with snow and no one noticed it until the snow melted.”

They continued on to the inn, and Harry ordered supper for them. He didn’t know what to make of the scarf; he wanted to talk to Ron and Hermione, so when they had finished eating they went up to the flat and he tried the fireplace in Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, but no one was home. Neville returned to The Three Broomsticks, and Harry sat in front of his fireplace for another hour, fiddling with the scarf, watching Ginny’s dot on the map, and waiting for Madam Pomfrey to leave the hospital wing.

At around five o’clock there was a soft knock on the door. It was Winky, come to tell Harry that Saliyah Ushujaa was downstairs and wanted to talk to him. The elf seemed disgruntled, but wouldn’t say anything else. Saliyah was at a table with Popeye.

“I’m about to return to the Ministry,” she said when Harry sat. “I’ve reassigned the guard here and I wanted to be sure you knew about it. This is Alex Popandreyu; everyone calls him Popeye. He asked for the assignment.”

The Auror nodded and Harry looked at him in surprise. “We’ve met,” Harry said to Saliyah.

“Yes, I know.” She studied Harry for a moment before consulting a parchment lying on the table in front of her. “We’re doubling the guard; there will be five others so we’ll have a three-person rotation at all times. Popeye will introduce the others to you. Do you have any questions?”

Harry pulled the brown scarf from his pocket and handed it to her. “No, but Neville Longbottom found this behind the Post Office a couple of hours ago. It belongs to Turquoise Southeby.”

“We looked back there,” Popeye said to Saliyah. “Are you sure?” he asked Harry.

“It was under the snow, but enough had melted, and Neville spotted it. It must mean that she was the one up in the Post Office.”

Saliyah took the scarf. “Interesting,” was her only comment; she stood. “I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon at the regular time in my office. We have a lot to talk about, and you’ll have a chance to meet Sagittaria’s mother, if you want to.”

She left abruptly, leaving Harry and Popeye sitting there looking at each other. “She’s a touch upset,” the Auror said. “If we had found that scarf earlier it might have proved useful.”

“Really?” Harry said a little impatiently; he wanted to get back upstairs to check the Marauder’s Map to see if Ginny was alone.

“It might have retained a trace of a spell of some kind, but by now it’s probably too late.”

Harry stood. “I have something to do. Can we talk later?”

Popeye also stood and extended his hand. “I did ask for this assignment, and so did a couple of my mates.”

Harry took his hand and shook it. “Thanks, I appreciate that.” He left through the kitchen door and went upstairs.

Harry swore when he looked at the map. The entire school was already in the Great Hall, including Madam Pomfrey, and Ginny was alone in the hospital. He grabbed his Cloak and went back downstairs. Kreacher was waiting in the kitchen, but Harry asked Winky to see if any Aurors were still in the dining room; he didn’t want them to hear when he and Kreacher Disapparated. Winky made a face, and came back and said that none of the “impolite Auror wizards” were in the inn; Harry remembered then that she had expressed similar displeasure with Aurors when Morequest Pester had first visited the inn.

Harry and Kreacher Apparated directly into the hospital wing, startling Ginny who had been reading a textbook while eating her dinner at the small table next to her bed. She jumped up with a big smile and ran over to Harry; he caught her in his arms and whirled her around as Kreacher took a step back to avoid flying legs. After the snog had gone on for a few minutes the elf cleared his throat.

“Does Master Harry Potter wish Kreacher to return to the Hog’s Head Inn?” he croaked.

Harry unwrapped himself from Ginny, straightened his eyeglasses, and tried to catch his breath. “I’m sorry. Of course, and when I’m ready I’ll call you, okay?” Kreacher bowed and was gone with a loud crack.

“How are you feeling?” he said as they walked back to the bed.

“Great. What’s new? Any word of Keesha?”

“None. I spent a couple of hours with Neville. He can’t sleep. Ginny, we’ve got to do something.”

Harry sat on the bed with his back against the pillows. Ginny cuddled next to him and put her head on his chest as Harry held her. He told her what had happened in the afternoon. Ginny remembered the scarf. “But I don’t believe she could send a Patronus with a message. She’s a dunce.”

“You’re heavily biased against any woman who comes on to me,” Harry smiled and planted a kiss on her brow. “I agree, but it means that she sent the signal some other way. Maybe she took a chance and Apparated.”

“No,” said Ginny, “because then she wouldn’t have lost her scarf in the field.”

Harry shrugged. “Then it’s a mystery, and we still don’t have any way of finding her house, which is where Keesha is.”

Ginny reached up and pulled his head down; they kissed, and she pulled him down all the way and they lay next to each other, caressing and kissing. Harry reached back and plucked the map from the table where he had put it. He looked at it and sighed. “She’s on her way.”

He gave Ginny one final, intimate caress and a long kiss, stood and took a deep breath. Ginny lay on the bed looking up at him with glazed eyes and her mouth partly open. “Do you have to go?” she said plaintively.

“If I stay, not only will we both get in trouble, but I definitely won’t want to go to classes tomorrow. I suspect I’m going to get a lecture from Saliyah.”

Ginny rolled onto her side and leaned her head on her hand. “I’ll miss you.”

They heard footsteps in the hallway; Harry gave her another quick kiss and threw the Cloak over himself as the door opened and Madam Pomfrey came in. She waved at Ginny and went into her office, but came out a moment later carrying a goblet, and walked over to her patient’s bed.

“It’s a jinx-detecting potion,” she explained, not aware that Harry was peering into the goblet over her shoulder. “If you have any aftereffects from yesterday, this will detect and treat them, and we’ll know because it will turn your hair pink. If you go for twenty-four hours with no pink hair, we can let you go.” She smiled and handed the goblet to Ginny.

Ginny looked at the nurse in dismay. “You must be kidding. Pink? That clashes with my entire wardrobe. Don’t you have sky blue?”

Pomfrey chuckled. “No, dear. Go ahead, drink it. No one will see you.”

Harry, standing behind the nurse, stuck his hand out from under the Cloak and raised it in the air. Ginny glared at the place where she figured his head was. “That’s right, no one will see me,” she said loudly, and chugged the contents of the goblet.

“Well?” Ginny pulled her ponytail to her front and looked at it; it was still fiery red. “I guess I’m cured, then. Can I go?”

“Twenty-four hours, Miss Weasley.” The nurse turned; Harry had to jump to get out of her way and fell backward onto the next bed. Before Pomfrey could react he rolled off and scooted to the far side of the room. She stared at the bed and back at Ginny. “Has someone been in here with you?” she asked sternly.

Ginny shook her head with an innocent expression. “Not since Dennis and Demelza brought my books.”

“Humph.” The nurse gave her a skeptical look and went back to her office.

Harry threw the cloak off and came back to Ginny’s bed. “Pink hair! I’ve always wanted a girlfriend with pink hair.” He grinned.

Ginny pointed her finger at him. “I don’t want you coming back here if my hair is pink. I can’t believe she did that.”

“How can I tell if your hair is pink? The map doesn’t show colors.”

“ _I’ll_ know,” Ginny scowled. She looked at her ponytail again. “Maybe I’ll shave my head.”

Harry couldn’t help laughing, but he covered his mouth and looked at the door to the nurse’s office. “I’m sorry,” he whispered as Ginny glared at him. “If your hair turns pink and you don’t want me to come, move to another bed and I’ll see you on the map and stay away.”

“I don’t want you to stay away, I just don’t want you to see my hair if it’s pink.”

Harry gave up. “Okay. I’ll come but I’ll look the other way. How’s that?”

Ginny sighed. “Maybe it won’t turn pink.”

Harry sat on the bed and put his arm around her, wisely keeping his mouth shut. Finally Ginny returned his hug.

“You’d better get going; I’m starting to want you to stay pretty badly.” She kissed him and pushed him off the bed. “If it’s pink, I’ll be in that bed.” She pointed to the one behind Harry. He blew her a kiss and disappeared under the Cloak. A moment later Ginny saw the door open and close, and heard Harry’s footsteps fading away down the hallway.

# # # #

On Tuesday morning Harry saw on the map that Ginny had not changed beds, so he went down to breakfast hopeful that her hair would remain red and he wouldn’t be faced with the impossible task of somehow not noticing that it had turned pink. Neville showed up and told Harry that there was still no sign of Keesha, and he would be staying at The Three Broomsticks with her parents until she was found.

Harry Floo’d to the Ministry and met Ron in the common room, where he told him about the scarf.

“That’s not good that no one found it before Neville,” Ron said. “I think Saliyah won’t be happy.”

“I gave it to her just before I went back to see Ginny, and you’re right, she was definitely unhappy. And you’ll never guess who’s in charge of the guard detail in Hogsmeade now. Popeye.”

“You’re kidding! He hated your guts. Why would she do that?”

“Now he loves my guts. He stopped me in the middle of the High Street and apologized, and he wanted to know all about my Patronus.”

Ron grinned. “Good work, mate. You just made an important friend.”

Everybody’s mood that day was quiet; a few people asked after Ginny, but no one asked Harry about the fight or about Sagittaria. He ran into Professor Matthewson a few times in the corridors, but the Auror just nodded. Harry was relieved that he wasn’t attracting attention, and decided that he would just work hard and keep his head down. He didn’t expect people to forget, but he hoped that out of politeness no one would mention it.

When he got to Saliyah’s office after lunch, Laura Lovegood greeted him the way she always did—coolly—and he walked into the inner office, holding his breath.

Saliyah was sitting behind her desk riffling through a folder, but she threw it onto a table behind her when she saw him. She rose and waved her wand, and two easy chairs appeared in the corner; she gestured to Harry and they sat. He was grateful for the informality, but knew that it meant a difficult conversation was forthcoming; he braced himself.

“The labs examined that scarf,” Saliyah began, throwing Harry off his guard. “There’s a forty percent probability that a Patronus charm was used near it within about a day from the time Neville found it, and that confirms what we think happened in the Post Office. What do you think?”

Harry had to switch mental gears, from his behavior during the fight to Turquoise Southeby; after a moment he spoke, slowly. “I think Turquoise sent the message that we had passed the Post Office.”

“Do you think she’s competent enough to do that?”

“I didn’t think so, but I guess she is. Or,” he paused, “someone else was with her.”

“That’s what I think. The tests don’t tell us who used the charm, just that the scarf was nearby. That still leaves us with a mystery person, of course, maybe Umbridge, maybe not.”

She crossed her legs and put her fingertips together. _Here it comes_ , Harry thought. A look flitted across the Auror’s face as though she knew what Harry was thinking, and with a start he realized that if she was a good enough Legilimens, she could have read his thoughts but he might not have noticed anything.

“You know what we’re about to discuss,” she began, “and I have a question for you. I want to know what you felt when the Death Eater called Ginny your bitch.”

Harry sucked in his breath; he felt his teeth clench, but forced himself to stay calm and think. “I was angry. I saw red. I wanted to kill him, kill all of them.”

He waited for a response, but Saliyah just looked at him, her eyebrows slightly raised. Harry wondered what she was doing.

“I guess it was stupid,” he went on. “It _was_ stupid. I know I shouldn’t have done it.”

“I’m sure you do. If I wasn’t certain of that, we would not be sitting here. The question, Harry, is can you prevent it from happening again. And consider that now your enemies know that you have a weak point, a vulnerability. Just like your use of the Disarming charm gave your identity away, now here’s another chink in your armor that’s going to become widely known.”

Harry looked down at his hands folded in his lap. It suddenly felt like things were slipping away again, that he had dug himself a hole that he would never get out of. He flashed back to the dark hours of two nights ago, when he was watching over Ginny and it seemed like his world was ending.

Then he thought about yesterday afternoon and Ginny’s frustration at the possibility that her hair might turn pink, and despite himself he smiled.

“I don’t think that can happen again,” he said to Saliyah.

“And why is that?”

“It’s complicated, but it’s a combination of having felt Sagittaria die—I mean actually feeling it—and something that happened to Ginny yesterday in hospital.”

The Auror pursed her lips and tapped her fingertips together. “What happened to Ginny?” she said after a moment.

“She had to drink a potion, and if it detects a jinx, it will turn her hair pink. She was kind of upset about it.”

Saliyah smiled briefly. “I can sympathize. But why do you think that will stop you from reacting to a taunt?”

“Because she is everything to me, but I am nothing if I’m dead and she’s alone. If I had been killed, maybe my stag would have disappeared, and who knows what would have happened. I can’t allow that. I won’t allow that.”

“What will you do to prevent it?”

“I’ll think about Ginny with pink hair.”

After another pause she nodded. “Good, Harry, that’s exactly what I wanted to hear.” She smiled broadly. “I admit that I didn’t think it would have to do with Ginny’s hair. And of course whenever I see her now I’ll imagine her with pink hair.”

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled, but he smiled too.

“And as far as I am concerned, the subject is closed; we will speak no more of it.”

She rose and Harry, relieved that this conversation had not been the ordeal he had expected, did too. The chairs disappeared and Saliyah walked behind her desk and sat; she nodded at the chair in front of the desk and Harry also sat. She heaved a sigh.

“Things are not good, Harry. Kingsley asks me every half hour about his niece. We have to find Turquoise, but frankly, I’m at a loss.”

“They’ll make a mistake,” Harry said. “They always do. If you think about the ambush from their point of view, it was a failure. They didn’t get me and they didn’t get my girlfriend. And now I know that my Patronus can deflect a curse. Popeye said he had never heard of it before. It’s going to make a big difference if we can figure out how to control it.”

“That’s a big if. The fact that no one’s heard of it means that it won’t be easy. But you may be right. The problem is that they have Keesha Baker, and we don’t know what they’ll do to her if we close in on them.”

Harry had no answer. As they both sat in silence pondering their dilemma, Laura came in and handed a parchment to Saliyah. She perused it, and her eyes widened. She handed it to Harry; it was a report from the Auror who was the department’s contact with Mundungus Fletcher. Mundungus had informed the Auror that Pansy Parkinson had sold thirty pounds of Peruvian Darkness Powder to Caractacus Burke that morning.

Harry handed the parchment back. “Thirty pounds? How did she carry that much? And if he paid her—what was it, sixteen Galleons a pound?—she’s walking around with a small fortune on her.”

Saliyah nodded. “But it figures that they would sell more now, after losing half of their people; they must be nervous. It’s very worrisome because they may want the gold to help them get out of the country.” She scowled and looked at Lovegood. “Was Dung able to follow her?”

“She went into Flourish and Blotts and Floo’d out. We’re trying to trace her now.”

“Hmm. I wonder if she knew that we arrested those two blighters in the Floo Authority. I’ll bet she didn’t.” Saliyah grinned at Harry. “They may have made that mistake you mentioned. If we can trace her, we’re in business.”

“Are you going to arrest Burke?” Harry asked. “He bought more Powder even though he knew it was part of an illegal shipment.”

“I think not,” Saliyah said thoughtfully. “If they try to sell more, they’ll go to him, and now it seems that Mr. Fletcher has figured out how to keep an eye on him. But if Burke is in jail, they’ll have to go someplace else that we might not know about. Of course, Burke probably figured out the same thing, so he’s assuming that we won’t arrest him.”

“I see I’ll have to learn how to think deviously,” Harry grinned. Saliyah laughed, but Harry noticed that Laura Lovegood shot him a disapproving look.

Saliyah gave the report back to her assistant. “Let me know as soon as you find out where Pansy went.” Lovegood left, and Saliyah leaned back in her chair. “That improved my mood a little.” She glanced at the clock on her wall. “Mrs. Wilson—Sagittaria’s mother—is in the Ministry. If you want to see her today, you won’t have to meet with Professor Matthewson. What do you want to do?”

Harry knew that he must talk to her; if anyone could tell him why Sagittaria had acted so recklessly to save him, it would be her mother. “I’d like to see her,” he said. “Where can we do it?”

“There’s a small lounge right down the hall. I think she’s with the Minister now, so why don’t I take you to the lounge and I’ll go get her.”

As he walked down the corridor with Saliyah, he wished that Ginny was with him; Harry wasn’t sure how he would react, or even more importantly, how Mrs. Wilson would react. Would she be angry? Furious? Or understanding? Harry only knew that somehow, he had to convey to Sagittaria’s mother that he would always live with that memory of life slipping out of her daughter’s body.


	43. The Secret-Keeper

Ten minutes after Saliyah left him in the lounge, there was a knock on the door. Harry stood and a tall witch in somber black robes came in. She looked at Harry for a moment; her eyes, brown like Sagittaria’s, were sad; her face, in fact her entire body, seemed weary. She appeared to be a little older than Molly Weasley, but that may have been because of her weariness.

Her gray hair was tied up in a bun, and she absentmindedly touched it with her hand. She nodded to Harry and gazed around the small room with its dark paneled walls and small fireplace in which a few logs were burning; the only other light came from a half-dozen candles set in sconces on the walls. There were only two chairs and no other furniture.

“Mr. Potter.” Her voice was calm. She sat and Harry did too.

“Mrs. Wilson,” he said just as quietly. He felt the knots in his stomach start to loosen; he had been braced for anger and accusation, but the woman’s demeanor was gentle. “I’m sorry.”

She nodded again. “Thank you. Is your fiancée well? I was told that she wouldn’t be scarred. That must be a great relief.”

“Ginny is well. And there won’t be any scars.”

“And Miss Baker is still missing. The Minister is distraught. She is a good friend of yours, I believe.”

“Yes, a good friend.”

Her eyes took on an even more kindly look. In the silence the only sound was the crackling of the flames.

“Mrs. Wilson, I am very—I feel very—I want to tell you that—”

“Harry,” she said in her soft voice, “Sagittaria came home the day before she died, and we had tea in a small inn near our home. We go there often; it’s very cozy, and I think you and Miss Weasley would like it.” She paused and smiled. “It’s very romantic, but I’m sure you have your own favorite places that have special meaning to you and her.”

Harry now felt embarrassed. The woman was acting as if he was her favorite nephew, not the person responsible for her daughter’s death. He wasn’t sure what was happening, but he felt as if she was apologizing to him.

“Mrs. Wilson,” he said before she could continue, “I was the reason for what happened to Sagittaria.”

“For her death, you mean.”

“Yes.” Harry was not expecting this calmness and plain speech; he was becoming more and more confused. “I . . . I did something that I shouldn’t have done, and she died because of that.”

Mrs. Wilson nodded. “Now I see what you are trying to tell me.” She paused again, and a serene smile appeared. “I understand that you did some extraordinary things that probably saved the lives of three other people. I am so very glad for that.”

“Well, I—I—” Harry’s confusion was now total; he had no idea what to say.

She held up her hand to keep him from continuing. “You and Ginny were very special to Sagittaria, did you know that?” When Harry shook his head she went on. “When we had our little tea in that inn, she told me that you had very kindly invited her to dinner. She had a wonderful time. Your flat must be a lovely place; she told me how warm and friendly it was. She said she felt as though the love between you and Ginny was surrounding her.”

The sadness in her eyes was gone; in its place was a twinkle that reminded Harry of the look he often used to see behind Professor Dumbledore’s half-moon spectacles.

She continued, and for a moment her smile became a little wider. “Sagittaria never married, but when she was about your age there was a young wizard with whom she was very much in love. Your love for your Ginny reminded her of his love for herself. I think that, for the short time she knew you, she experienced vicariously a little bit of the life that she missed out on, that was denied her. You see, shortly after they left Hogwarts he was killed by Death Eaters, along with his entire family.”

Her eyes again grew sad and she gazed into the fire. Harry watched her, mesmerized by the peacefulness, the serenity that she seemed to radiate.

She looked back at him and her eyes smiled. “When Sagittaria jumped up to save you, I am convinced in my heart that it was not you she saw in danger, but Aaron. You see, the Death Eaters were trying to kill her, not him. Sagittaria’s stepfather and I were very active in the early years of the fight against Lord Voldemort, before Professor Dumbledore organized the Order of the Phoenix. Aaron stepped in front of Sagittaria and was hit by a curse that was meant for her. He died almost instantly.”

For the first time Harry thought that she was going to cry; she looked down and passed her hand over her eyes, but when she looked up her gaze was calm and clear.

“Sagittaria never really recovered from that loss, and then, for no other reason than to prove their cruelty, they killed his family. It was another blow, and for a long time she withdrew into a shell. There were times when we feared she would harm herself. We dropped out of the fight. I suppose it was a selfish act on our part, but Sagittaria needed looking after. At any rate, when the first war was over, thanks in part to a certain infant,” she smiled at Harry, “she decided to become an Auror. She never believed that Voldemort was dead; she knew that he would return, and she wanted to be ready.”

She stopped and folded her hands in her lap, and gazed at Harry for a long moment He did not feel uncomfortable under her gaze, or any need to speak. No words passed between them, but Harry found himself smiling at her.

“She was very pleased when they assigned her to guard your home,” Mrs. Wilson continued, “and when she became acquainted with your fiancée I began to notice that she was taking a special interest in the two of you. I mentioned it and she assured me that it would not cloud her judgment. Clearly she was wrong. So you see, Harry, what happened was bound to happen sooner or later, and if anyone besides herself is to blame, it is I and Sagittaria’s supervisors for not seeing the danger and doing something about it.”

“I had no idea,” Harry said in a hoarse whisper; he had a lump in his throat and it was difficult to speak. “She was always very friendly and helpful. Once I kind of got angry at her about all the things that had happened, and she was still nice to me. She and Ginny talked about Quidditch. We asked her to come to Ginny’s next match.” His eyes brimmed, and Mrs. Wilson rose and came to Harry’s chair, taking his hands in hers.

“Don’t be ashamed of your tears, Harry. If you feel responsible it’s only to your credit. I dearly hope that you don’t take this burden on yourself, though.”

Harry wiped his eyes and rose from his chair. “Thank you. Is there going to be a funeral? We—we’d like to come.”

“And I would like you to come, as long as you don’t feel uncomfortable. I would love to meet Ginny, she must be a very special young woman.”

Harry smiled. “She is.”

“Well.” The witch smiled and took Harry’s hands again. “You be well, Harry Potter, and I think that when you bring Sagittaria’s murderers to justice, the world will finally be rid of the evil that brought such sorrow into her life. And that will be a gift from you to her.”

She turned and left the room. Harry sat back down and stared at the chair where she had been sitting; he had never met anyone like her, so serene, so calm, so forgiving and so accepting. He remained there, lost in thought, until there was a knock on the door and Ron poked his head in.

“Are you all right, mate? I was waiting for you in the common room, but you never showed.”

“I’m okay. I just met Sagittaria’s mother, or an angel. I’m not sure which.”

Ron looked puzzled. “Wasn’t she upset?”

Harry got out of his chair. “Yes, and no. I can’t explain it. I guess I’m not really sure what happened.”

He told Ron about Sagittaria’s history as they walked back to the common room where Harry had left his books. Ron wanted to hear more, but Harry was anxious to get back to Hogsmeade and go to Ginny.

“Why don’t you and Hermione come up to the inn tomorrow evening for a couple of hours? Ginny may be there after she sees George, assuming her hair isn’t pink.”

Ron gawked at him. “Pink hair?”

Harry laughed and explained the jinx-detecting potion. “She threatened to shave her head if it turns pink. The worst part is, I don’t have a clue how to act if it happens. I can’t possibly ignore it if she’s standing right in front of me.”

“You have a potential disaster on your hands, mate. There’s no way you can come out of it without looking like an insensitive cad. Just pray that it doesn’t turn pink. If it does, poke your eyes out; blindness will be your only excuse.”

“Good, I can become the world’s first blind Auror. Wait! That gives me an idea. How about if I just lose my eyeglasses?”

“Nah. You can still see colors. Blindness is your only hope.”

They chuckled all the way down to the Atrium where they took separate fireplaces. As soon as Harry was back in the flat he checked the Marauder’s Map and saw that it was dinnertime at Hogwarts and Ginny was alone in the hospital wing, thankfully in her old bed. He grabbed his Cloak, raced downstairs, checked the dining room for Aurors, and, back in the kitchen, took the tray that Kreacher was carrying and set it on the counter. When he told the old elf that he wanted to Disapparate to the hospital wing right away, Kreacher rolled his eyes and sighed; he looked at Harry as he might a spoiled, misbehaving child, and took his hand.

Ginny looked up from her dinner when Harry and Kreacher appeared. The elf bowed to her but didn’t bother to wait; his ears gave a twitch and he vanished. Ginny threw the tray of food onto her side table; it crashed to the floor, but she didn’t notice as Harry dove onto the bed and they wrapped themselves together. A few minutes later they were lying side by side, gasping for breath, their clothes unzipped and unbuttoned, in total disarray.

Their breathing gradually slowed. Harry checked the map, but Madam Pomfrey was still at the staff table in the Great Hall; he lay back down and grinned at Ginny. “I think I missed you.”

“It seems like you did,” she laughed. “No wonder Kreacher left so quickly.”

“Your hair is still red.”

Ginny took a lock and held it up. “Yep, and Madam Pomfrey said I can leave after dinner if it stays like this. But did you meet with Sagittaria’s mother?”

Harry told the story to Ginny. “It was the strangest conversation I’ve ever had. She made me feel like I was the most important person in the world, like I was her child too. I actually felt good afterward. It was amazing.”

“I guess I’ll meet her at the funeral. And maybe we can go to that inn she told you about.”

‘I’d like that.”

“So she didn’t mention Elizabeth or her uncles?”

“You’re right, she didn’t; I hadn’t thought of that. Merlin, Elizabeth Derby was her granddaughter, and two of the uncles are her sons. I can’t imagine what that poor woman is going through.”

Ginny rested her head on Harry’s chest. “It’s like it never ends,” she sighed. Harry put his arms around her and they held each other, lost in their own thoughts.

After a few minutes Ginny took the map from Harry and pointed to a dot climbing the stairs to the hospital wing. “Here she comes. I hope she lets me go now. I’m really sick of this place. There’s no one to talk to.”

Harry fixed his own clothes and buttoned up her blouse while she pulled her jeans back on. As footsteps approached in the hallway, he ducked under his Cloak and moved to the other side of the room. Madam Pomfrey entered and came right over to Ginny.

“It looks fine,” she smiled as she ran her hand over Ginny’s hair. “Let’s get you packed and then off you go.” She glanced at the bed. “How did your bed get so messy, dear? And where’s your dinner? Didn’t they send a tray up?”

“Oh, yes. It slipped onto the floor and I didn’t get a chance to clean it up.” Ginny took her wand and hurriedly put the tray and the bed back together. The nurse went into her office and came out with Ginny’s satchel.

“Just pack it up, dear. I’ll get a house-elf to bring it to your room, and your books and things too.”

Ginny threw her belongings into the satchel; she wanted to get out before the nurse started wondering about the bedclothes and why they had got so rumpled. Pomfrey lit her wand, took one final, close look at Ginny’s hair, and cheerfully sent her on her way. Harry went out the door right behind her and put his hand on her back.

“We need to talk about tomorrow night,” he said in a low voice; no one was around, but they could see students at the other end of the corridor. “Where can we meet, and when?”

Ginny thought for a moment. “How about the owlery? I haven’t seen the owlets since last week. I’ll go there right after dinner; it’s more likely to be empty then than later.”

‘Okay. I asked Ron to come to the inn with Hermione, so we can all talk.”

“About what?” Ginny leaned slightly to her right so that she could feel Harry under the Cloak.

“What Mrs. Wilson said and what’s up with that Popeye bloke, but mostly about finding Keesha.”

They were now in a more crowded corridor, and people called out to Ginny; a few tried to stop her and chat, but she told them she had to get back to her room. When they were standing in front of the Fat Lady, Ginny let two fourth-year boys come out—they greeted her noisily, much to her and Harry’s annoyance—and said a quick goodbye with a squeeze of their hands under the Cloak. Harry waited until the portrait swung closed, and walked away as the Fat Lady called after him, “I know you’re there, Potter! And don’t come back trying to sneak in!”

Harry found an empty classroom in a deserted corridor on the fourth floor, sealed the door with Colloportus, summoned Kreacher, and returned to the inn, leaving the mystery of the sealed classroom to Argus Filch. He passed a quiet evening and fell asleep composing in his mind the love note that he couldn’t send to Ginny.

Next morning Harry’s classes went without incident, but in the afternoon Saliyah told him that Pansy Parkinson had been traced to a fireplace in a wizard restaurant in York.

“Turquoise worked in a restaurant in York!” Harry exclaimed. They were sitting in Saliyah’s office, and Harry leaned forward in his chair. “Rosmerta told me last summer when I was trying to hire a cook.”

“Yes, we know,” the Auror said, “but it gets more interesting. From the restaurant she went to her home, which is in a suburb of York. Her younger sister was the only person there at the time. Pansy didn’t speak to her, though, and all she could tell us is that Pansy Disapparated with a backpack that was stuffed with clothes.”

“She’s leaving the country!”

“That’s what it looks like.”

“I didn’t know she had a sister. How old is she?”

“She should be a first-year at Hogwarts, but apparently the family wouldn’t let her go, after what happened to Pansy last year. I don’t know how they’re educating her; maybe not at all.”

“What a family. So is there any way to find out how she’s planning to get out of Britain? And what about the Death Eaters? Is there any sign of what they’re doing?”

“No.” Saliyah gazed at the desktop, and Harry, for the first time since he had met her, saw discouragement in her eyes. “We need that break you’ve talked about, but I don’t know what it could be. And if they take Keesha out of the country . . .” She pressed her lips together and stared at Harry. “That scares the hell out of me. A young girl taken to a foreign country . . . I don’t want to even think about it.”

Harry felt sick. He couldn’t imagine what Neville’s reaction would be to something like that. “We have to find her. Can’t you use Veritaserum on Jace Kleinhead or Serpens Lestrange? What about those two vagrants that we caught throwing a dead weasel through the window? Why won’t Shacklebolt—”

He stopped, embarrassed, but Saliyah made a calming motion with her hand, leaned across the desk, and motioned Harry to do the same.

“We did use it,” she whispered almost inaudibly. “The two vagrants had been Obliviated, so they were useless. Kleinhead and Lestrange told us that they got their orders from Turquoise, but I don’t think that’s the whole story. We’ve investigated that witch inside and out, and there’s no way she could be running this show. Until she showed up in Hogsmeade last summer, she was an ordinary, uneducated, country witch with no ambition to be anything but a decent waitress.”

“Decent?” Harry snorted. “When I saw her for the first time she was dressed like a tart; I thought she was going to jump me.”

“She was always a little pushy like that.” Saliyah leaned back. “At least according to our sources. She got a little extreme after she didn’t get that job with you, that’s all.” She glanced at the clock on the wall and sighed. “I have to see Kingsley. He’s been asking for updates a dozen times a day, but I have nothing to tell him.”

Harry went back to the common room before reporting to Professor Matthewson. They worked until six o’clock, and Harry went home. He ate a quick bite in his little kitchen, checked the map, saw Ginny in the owlery by herself, and went downstairs for Kreacher. When the elf heard where Harry wanted to go, he looked askance and reluctantly extended his hand for Harry to take.

“Owls bites,” he muttered. “Harry Potter must promise Kreacher he will keep the nasty one away.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry said. “I forgot what happened the last time you were there. But you don’t have to bring an owl back, just Ginny and me.”

Kreacher bowed, still with a distasteful look on his wrinkled face, and took Harry’s hand. But when they Apparated in the middle of the owlery, both of them gave a start. Ginny was standing before them with her arms extended from her shoulders; Bailey was perched on her head, and on each of her outstretched arms were three owlets. Ginny herself was grinning furiously.

Harry recovered first. “They can fly! When did that happen?”

Ginny shrugged her shoulders, and the tiny birds fluttered and made tiny chirping noises; some of them staggered, but they all held on. “They were flying around when I came in, then Bailey and McPherson herded them to me, and here we are.” She giggled and raised her eyes up at Bailey. “Is herding what you do with birds?”

Harry laughed and slowly walked over to her; the owlets shifted nervously, but Bailey gave a loud squawk, and they all froze. Harry extended his hand to the closest one, and it backed away until it bumped into its nearest sibling. He laughed. “They’re beautiful! We have to name them.”

“I was thinking of letting Emma and Claire do that. They’ve been talking about them non-stop all day; I think Hagrid told them they were about to fledge.”

“Where’s McPherson?” Harry looked around.

“He flew out when I got here. I think he wanted to hunt, and figured it would be safe for the babies as long as I was here. I wish he’d come back, my arms are getting tired.”

At that moment Kreacher cleared his throat; they looked around and saw a large shadow in the doorway.

“Harry Potter, I might’a known. What’re yeh doin’ here and how’d yeh get in?”

Hagrid strode into the owlery, a scowl on his face but a twinkle in his eye. “Yer the most incorrigible wizard I ever knew, an’ I’ve know plenty of ‘em—”

He stopped when he saw Ginny with her outstretched arms. His face broke into a huge smile. “Blessed Merlin! Look at ‘em! Owlets!” He walked closer and, as he held his hands out to Ginny, the six birds flew to him and all six landed on his huge, open palms. Bailey launched herself off Ginny’s head and flew to his shoulder.

Kreacher cleared his throat again. “Master Harry,” he croaked, “may Kreacher leave this place?” He looked around with an expression close to loathing.

Harry turned to Ginny. “What do you want to do?”

Ginny gave the owlets a motherly look. “We’d better go. George must be expecting me, and I can come back here later.”

Hagrid frowned. “Hold on. Yeh ain’t leaving school, are yeh?”

Ginny looked at Harry. “Um. Just for a couple of hours. Hagrid, I need to see George. He’s in the village to re-open Zonko’s and he’s having a really tough time because of Fred. Please don’t tell anyone.”

Hagrid sighed, causing a stir amongst the owlets. “Go on, then. I never saw yeh, right? Just don’t get into no trouble out there, or it’s bound to come out that I saw yeh and let yeh leave. Go on!”

“Thanks, Hagrid.” Ginny reached up and patted his arm. “Take good care of them!” She skipped over to Kreacher, she and Harry each took a hand, and they were in the dim, empty room of Zonko’s Joke Shop. George rose from a wooden chair in the corner, holding a candle, and Ginny ran and hugged him. He hugged her back with his free hand.

“Thanks for coming, Sis. It’s good to see you. Have a seat in my luxurious parlor.” He gestured to the other wooden chair and the table with several candles on it. “Would you like to stay?” he said to Harry. “I have a pot of tea on in back.”

“No, no. You and Ginny talk. I’ll be at the inn. Come over and get me when you’re done. You shouldn’t go outside, love,” he said to her. “Someone might see you.”

Harry and Kreacher left and George led her to the chairs in the corner. “I like the way he looks after you, Sis.”

“He’s my sweetie,” she smiled.

George disappeared through an open door and came back with tea service on a tray. He poured and sat down across the little table.

“How are you, Gin? You look fine. Which side of your face got hit? I can’t see anything.”

She pointed to her left cheek. “Harry took care of me all night, even though he was really scared for himself. He thought he was responsible for what happened to Sagittaria.”

George took a sip of his tea. “I heard all about it. It wasn’t his fault.”

Ginny also took a sip and set her cup down. “And how are you, brother?” she said softly.

“Ah, there’s the question. George keeps himself busy so he won’t notice the nasty ghosts that come to visit. Except at night, in bed. Then the ghosts don’t go away.” He shook his head as he gazed at her. “They just don’t go away.”

Ginny reached across and took his hand. She wasn’t sure what to say, or if, indeed, there was anything she _could_ say. George looked at their hands, and was also silent. Finally he returned his eyes to her with a tight-lipped smile.

“I’ve spent a few nights with Angelina, and that helps a little, but in the morning I wonder what the hell I’m doing. I mean, she was his girlfriend. And I know she’s thinking the same thing.” He looked at Ginny, frowning slightly. “You don’t mind my telling you this, do you?”

Ginny shook her head. “As long as it’s something you both want, or need, I think it’s a good idea.”

“We’re not like you and Harry. No one is like you and Harry. But . . . it’s nice, and we both have the same ghosts that won’t go away. We introduce them to each other every night, hoping that maybe they’ll shack up too, and leave us alone.”

George smiled, and Ginny tried to, but she knew it didn’t work.

“Sorry,” George mumbled; he swirled his cup and tea sloshed into the saucer. “My jokes are pathetic anymore.”

“Like I said, if it’s what you need now, it’s nothing to apologize for. And there’s nothing wrong with liking Angelina.”

“No, there isn’t. He had good taste.”

This time Ginny did smile. George refilled his cup and poured more for Ginny. “So, do you have a wedding date set?”

“The middle of July, but I’m leaving it to Mum to set the exact date. We want to have it before our birthdays, but far enough into the summer so that I have time to get ready.”

“And where will your honeymoon be?”

Ginny grinned. “I don’t know. It’s a surprise from Harry. I can’t wait, though.”

George leaned back in his chair and smiled. “You are so happy, Ginny, and I am so happy for you. It’s great to talk to you. I’ve been thinking about splitting my time between Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade, at least for a few months until the end of the school term. We could see each other a lot more. What do you think?”

Ginny dropped her cup; it clattered onto the table, spilling tea across it and onto the floor. She abruptly stood, and George looked at her in alarm. “What is it?” He also stood. “Ginny?”

She had a wide-eyed, far-away look; she pushed her chair back and leaned her hands on the table.

“Harry,” she whispered, and ran for the door, stopping and turning when she reached it. “Stay here!” When George started towards her, she put up her hand. “George, please! He just wants me. Stay here!” She pulled the door open, still facing him, and pointed her finger. “Don’t come!” She turned and sprinted towards the inn.

“Ginny!” George went to the door and watched her splash across the muddy street and run down the lane, past the two Aurors standing at the corner of the inn. He went out onto the steps and waited until she had gone through the front door, turned with a sigh, and went back inside.

Ginny was breathing hard when she got to the inn. She threw open the front door and looked around. Stan was behind the bar talking with the third Auror and another witch. He waved at her and pointed to the kitchen. Ginny walked slowly through the dining room and pushed open the door. Winky was standing near the back door with a ladle in her hand. The elf was looking across the room at two figures sitting on stools at the counter; Ginny realized that the fire had been banked and that much of the room was in shadow. She looked closely at the seated figures. Harry was facing her, and nodded; he had a strange, hard expression on his face, and he was holding his wand in his lap. The other figure was cloaked and hooded with its back to her. Ginny took out her wand and walked towards them.

# # # #

Harry left Ginny and George in Zonko’s and, with Kreacher, went back to the inn. The High Street was still muddy in spots, and he wondered why someone didn’t dry it out with a charm of some kind. He had never thought about it, and made a mental note to ask Tony if anyone was supposed to do it, or if they always left it to dry out by itself. The lane down to the Hog’s Head wasn’t too wet since the ground sloped off into the field across from the inn. Still, he didn’t want to track mud into the dining room, so they went around back and he cleaned his boots while Kreacher went on into the kitchen; somehow there was no mud on the elf’s feet. Harry went upstairs to drop off the map, his Invisibility Cloak, and his winter cloak.

He went back down to the dining room and chatted for a few minutes with Stan, who was bubbling over with news. Harriet had quit her job at The Three Broomsticks and was now working for George and Lee, and had got a significant raise. It meant that, along with the profits from the Hog’s Head, they could now buy their own house and were going to set a wedding date soon. “I couldn’t get ‘er a fancy ring like you did, ‘Arry, but it’s pretty, and she likes it,” he grinned.

Harry shook his hand. “Stan, that’s great! We’ll have a party for you. Will you stay in Hogsmeade?”

“Of course. We both ‘ave nice jobs up ‘ere. It’s a great place to have a family,” he said, turning a little red.

Harry laughed and looked around. Tony wasn’t there, so Harry took a butterbeer and went to his table in the back. He sat, sipping his drink, watching his customers enjoying themselves, and wondering if he could convince Ginny to dally up in the flat when she and George were done talking.

A cloaked figure came in the front door and went to the bar. The person was short, and Harry had the impression that it was a witch. He saw Stan hand her a butterbeer and she turned to face the room. The Auror sitting about ten feet away peered at her for a moment, but went back to her conversation with another witch.

The new arrival’s hood partly hid her face, but there was something familiar about her. She looked around and started walking towards Harry; he put his hand on his wand as she approached. She stopped in front of him. Not only was her hood shadowing her face, but she also wore a turtleneck that almost covered her chin, and her large, thick eyeglasses distorted the whole upper part of her face. Still, he recognized Pansy Parkinson.

Harry half rose from his seat and pointed his wand at her chest, but she spoke first in a harsh whisper.

“Put your wand away, Potter. I’m Turquoise Southeby’s Secret-Keeper.”

“You?” Harry said in disbelief, keeping his wand up.

She glanced quickly around and leaned towards him. “Are you deaf? Put your damn wand away. Do you want to save your friend or not?”

Harry stared for a moment and slowly sat down; he lowered his wand but kept it out, pointing in Pansy’s direction. “You mean Keesha?” he said in a low voice.

She nodded. “I want to talk to you, but not here. Aurors make me nervous.”

“I’ll bet. So why shouldn’t I just Stun you and turn you in? They’re using Veritaserum, in case you didn’t know.”

“Of course they are,” she said scornfully. “Why wouldn’t they? And the reason you shouldn’t try anything stupid is that there’s a message that will be delivered to someone if I’m not back in an hour to stop it. So I repeat my question, do you want to save your friend?”

Harry swallowed and thought hard. He didn’t trust her or anything she said, but there had to be a reason for this visit. If it was another attempt to hurt or even kill him, she wasn’t likely to get away with it since he had no intention of putting his wand away and she was no match for him in a duel. But if she was telling the truth, this was the break they were looking for.

“Okay,” he said, shifting his eyes around the room, “we’ll take our butterbeers into the kitchen. It’s through the back door. I’ll smile at the nice Auror, and maybe she’ll think we’re old school chums. I’m warning you though, after everything I’ve gone through, I’d just as soon kill you as look at you. And I haven’t forgot your kind offer to sell me to Riddle.”

Pansy’s eyes hardened, but she gave a short nod. Harry took his butterbeer and gestured to her; no matter what she said, he was not putting his back to her. He pressed his wand to the side of his leg as they passed the Auror and her friend, and both of them glanced at Harry but took no other notice. Stan was busy at the far end of the bar and didn’t look up.

Kreacher was on his way out of the kitchen with a tray of food on his shoulder, but he backed away from Pansy as she came in the door. A look of fear came over his face. He backed straight up until he bumped into the rear door, where he stood trembling. His face relaxed a little when he saw Harry right behind her with his wand out.

Winky had turned from the stove when she noticed Kreacher backing up, and gave a cry and snatched a ladle from her belt. She jumped down from her stool and scurried across the floor to stand next to Kreacher, brandishing the ladle and scowling fiercely.

Pansy halted and turned to Harry. “Your bodyguards?” she sneered.

Harry started a wand motion, but stopped; a spark flew from the tip and zipped past Pansy’s ear. She tilted her head slightly but didn’t blink. “You have a reputation for losing your temper, and now I see why,” she said with a smirk.

Harry smiled. “If I had lost my temper you would be on the floor. Instead, have a seat.” He indicated a stool on the other side of the room, far away from the elves. “Kreacher,” he called, “it’s okay, take care of the customers, but please don’t say anything.”

Kreacher bowed his head and left, keeping his eye on Pansy as he passed her. Winky drew herself up and took a firmer grip on her ladle; she too did not look away from their guest.

Pansy sat on the stool, took her eyeglasses off and put them in a pocket. With the distortion gone, Harry thought she looked even more like a pug. He pulled over another stool and sat a few feet from her so that he was facing both her and the door to the dining room; he kept his wand in his hand on his lap.

“So where is the house?”

“Please make the fire lower.” She pointed to the fireplace. Harry hesitated a moment, but flicked his wand and the flames died down.

Pansy spoke. “I want you to promise to tell the Ministry that I came to you voluntarily.”

Harry thought for a moment, and suddenly several pieces of the puzzle fell into place. “You’re skipping out on them, aren’t you? You sold thirty pounds of Darkness Powder but you’re keeping the gold. And now you want the protection of the Ministry.”

“Correct except for the last part. I don’t want anyone’s protection; I’ll handle that myself, thank you. As far as I can tell, everyone in the Ministry is a bumbling idiot. Still.”

Harry felt a momentary flush of anger, but it passed immediately. “If you don’t need protection, why do I need to tell Saliyah that you came here out of the goodness of your heart?”

“I just don’t want them hunting me.” Her eyes dropped for a moment. “I’m tired of looking over my shoulder.”

Harry nodded. “I can understand that. So, where is the house, and why the revelation?”

Again she looked down; when she raised her eyes, the hardness was softened.

“Abigail Abernathy is my sister’s best friend. I used to babysit for her. I didn’t like what they did to her.”

Harry stared. He didn’t know what was stranger, that Pansy could have such feelings about someone else, or that those feelings would make her turn on her companions and risk retaliation. There were too many unanswered questions. He decided to see how much information he could get out of her.

“Did you know Turquoise when she worked in York? And why are you, of all people, the Secret-Keeper?”

Pansy’s eyes hardened again. “I’m not answering any questions, Potter, but I will do you one favor. Since you’ll never get the girl out by yourself, I’ll also tell your girlfriend where the house is.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed; this was sounding more and more like a trap. But he told himself to calm down and think. It was probably true that one person by himself wouldn’t be able to rescue Keesha, but on the other hand how could Pansy prevent him from taking along a hundred Aurors to surround the house, even if they couldn’t see it? He wasn’t sure, and part of the reason for that uncertainty was that he knew so little about the Fidelius charm and how it worked.

Pansy was staring at him with her lips pursed. “I know what you’re thinking,” she sneered, “but the girl’s guards have orders to kill her if the house is invaded. The only way you’ll get her out is to figure out a way for you and Weasley to slip in somehow.”

“This is obviously a trap,” Harry said calmly, and pointed his wand at her. “So I think you’d better start trying to convince me otherwise.”

Pansy didn’t look at the wand, but she did seem surprised at Harry’s reaction. She smiled. “Well, Potter, you _have_ changed. Maybe Weasley is good for you.”

Harry had been expecting a taunt at some point, and smiled back. “She’s very good for me, Pansy.” He emphasized her name. “By the way, how’s Draco?”

For the first time, Pansy showed anger; her face flushed and she started to say something, but then she, too, smiled. “I’m afraid Draco and I aren’t an item anymore. I haven’t seen him since last May. Now, time is running short. Do you want to know where the house is?”

“First you need to convince me this isn’t a trap.”

Pansy glared at him. “I told you, they went after a kid who I happen to like very much.” She glanced away from Harry, and when she looked back the glare was gone. “They’re obsessed with . . . with something, and they’ll do anything to get it.”

“They’re obsessed with revenge! That’s why they put up those ridiculous Dark Marks and tried to wreck my inn, not to mention poisoning me and making me turn on Ginny!” This surge of anger was harder to control; his grip tightened on his wand, and he kept his arm from raising it only with a great effort.

She looked at him scornfully. “They’re not _that_ stupid, Potter. No, it’s not revenge, but I’m not saying anything else. Take it or leave it. If you want your friend back, send your elf for Weasley. That’s how you’re getting in and out of Hogwarts, isn’t it?”

Harry had calmed himself, and now he had to make a decision. Either this was the most pathetically obvious trap ever devised, or Pansy was giving him the last chance they might have to rescue Keesha. But even if it was a trap, at least he would be able to get into the house and have a possibility of freeing her. He stared at Pansy, whose gaze did not waver, and decided he had no choice: it was a risk he had to take.

Harry took a breath, and let Ginny flood his mind; he had never tried to actually communicate with her this way, and he had no idea if it would work. He thought of the times when they had made love and they saw each other out of the other one’s eyes. He swayed on the stool, but abruptly sat up. She was coming.

Pansy was peering at him quizzically. Harry nodded. “She’ll be here in a minute.”

“Who?” Pansy’s brow furrowed and she looked quickly around and stood.

“Ginny.”

“I thought she was in Hogwarts and the school was sealed.”

Harry pointed to the stool; Pansy sat back down. Harry tapped his wand on his leg and looked at the door as it opened.

Ginny stood there, out of breath and staring at Pansy’s back. She came towards them with her wand drawn. Pansy turned on the stool and Ginny gasped and stopped; she looked at Harry in shock. “What—who—what is she doing here?”

Harry flicked his wand and the door closed. “Pansy is the Secret-Keeper,” he said in a low voice. “She wants both of us to know where the house is.”

“Where is it?” Ginny snapped. “Is Keesha there?”

Pansy and Ginny stared at each other; neither one dropped her eyes, but Ginny lowered her wand.

“Yes, your friend is there,” Pansy said in a voice as quiet as Harry’s. “Follow the lane that runs in back of here for about three miles. You cross a Muggle highway, and then you come to a small path. There are no buildings there, but if you take the left hand path for another mile, just before you come to a brook you’ll see a grove of hemlocks off to the right, about two hundred yards. The house is there, in that grove of trees.”

Ginny and Harry felt soft fingers, almost like tender caresses, brush across their faces as the air in the room moved for a moment. Harry couldn’t help wondering if Tom Riddle had felt the same pleasant sensation when Wormtail revealed the location of his parents’ house in Godric’s Hollow.

 “Thank you,” Ginny said to Pansy, “but why are you doing this?”

Pansy shrugged. “Potter can tell you. I’ve been here too long.” She pointed to Winky who was still standing against the back door, watching them. “Will she talk?” she asked Harry.

“No.”

“Is she yours? Order her not to say anything.”

“I said she won’t talk,” Harry growled.

Pansy scowled at him and got off her stool. “You’ll also tell Shacklebolt that I came here on my own.”

Harry nodded as Ginny looked at him in surprise. “I’ll tell you everything,” he said to her.

Pansy put her eyeglasses on, blinked several times, and adjusted her hood over her face. She took one more look at Winky—the elf made a movement with her ladle—and walked to the dining room door. She paused with her hand on it and turned to Harry. “I need a favor. Can you walk out with me? It’ll look better.”

“I’ll be right back,” he said to Ginny. He followed Pansy out and closed the door behind them. Ginny went to it and opened it a crack; she watched as Harry escorted the cloaked girl to the front door. She let her breath go when he closed it and returned.

He took her arm and pulled her towards the back door. “We have to get Ron and Hermione,” he said, but stopped in front of Winky and knelt. “Are you okay, Winky? She won’t be back; she’s leaving Britain.”

“Death Eater,” Winky said with a glower. “She puts evil mark on Harry Potter’s house.”

Harry stood and looked at Ginny. “It _was_ her! That ridiculous argument you had with Ron was true.” He grinned. “She _is_ shorter than you.”

Ginny wasn’t smiling. “Harry, be serious. Are we going to the house tonight?”

“You’re right, let’s go.”

They went up to the flat and Harry immediately Floo’d to Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. The shop was closed, but he could hear footsteps above. When he knocked on the door Ron opened it and looked at him in surprise.

“I couldn’t wait for you to come,” Harry said, following Ron into the kitchen. “We need to get back to Hogsmeade, fast.” He turned as Hermione came in, brushing her hair. Harry lowered his voice. “Pansy Parkinson showed up. She’s the Secret-Keeper.”

Hermione dropped her brush and Ron dropped his jaw. “Did she tell you . . .?” he said, gripping the back of a chair.

Harry nodded, but as he opened his mouth to say more, he gasped as the air suddenly went out of his lungs and his throat constricted. He abruptly sat in the chair and started sucking air in deep, wheezing breaths.

Hermione jumped towards him. “Don’t say anything!” she cried. “You can’t tell us!” She and Ron bent over him as Harry began breathing normally. He gave them a frightened look.

“Merlin, what was that?” he said as his chest heaved; he wiped his brow with his hand.

“The Fidelius,” Hermione said, and handed him a towel. “Don’t even try to give us a hint. It’s dangerous.”

When a shaky Harry finally caught his breath they went down to the shop and Floo’d back to the inn. Ginny was pacing in the parlor and looked relieved when Harry came through the green flames. Behind her, nervously running his hand through his hair, was Neville.

“I Floo’d over to The Three Broomsticks to get him,” Ginny explained when they were all back.

“That was brilliant, Gin.” Harry squeezed her arm, and took both of Neville’s shoulders. “She’ll be okay, mate. I promise we’ll get her out.”

“What’s happening?” Neville said. “Ginny only told me that Pansy was here and she’s the Secret-Keeper.”

Harry moved his table into the center of the room and they sat around; he told them everything that had transpired with Pansy, except the location of the house.

“It’s a trap,” Ron said. “They’re expecting you, and they’ll kill you as soon as you’re inside.”

“We’ll have the Cloak,” Harry rejoined. “How can they kill us if they can’t see us? And being inside is exactly where I want to be.”

They talked for ten minutes, deciding not to wait for daylight but to leave immediately since the longer they waited, the more likely were the Death Eaters to realize that Pansy had betrayed them. And they would not inform the Aurors downstairs because of the threat to Keesha that Pansy had described.

“So what do we do when we get there?” Ron said. “We should have a plan.”

“How can we plan what we don’t know,” said Hermione. “And only Harry and Ginny will be able to see the house, so all that you, I, and Neville can do is wait until it becomes visible, which can’t happen unless Pansy tells us or she dies.””

 “Well, that’s an idea.”

Hermione scowled. “Ron, be serious.”

“I thought I was.” He held up his hand. “Sorry, you were saying?”

“I wasn’t saying anything. You were making inappropriate jokes.”

Ginny had been listening with increasing impatience. “Will you two shut it? Keesha’s life is in danger.”

“Let’s go,” said Neville, standing. “She’s been in there long enough.”

Harry also stood, and then the others. They put on their winter cloaks, Harry got his father’s cloak from the love seat where he had tossed it, and they all looked at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My description of the Fidelius charm and its workings comes from [The Harry Potter Lexicon’s Encyclopedia Of Spells.](http://www.hp-lexicon.org/magic/spells/spells_f.html)


	44. Dumbledore's Regiment

Harry took Ron and Hermione first. Outside the back door they saw no one, but they moved quickly across the field away from the inn. Getting over the fence while under the Cloak was tricky, and on the other side they paused to make sure they had not been seen. All was quiet, so they set off down the lane. After walking for five minutes Harry took off the Cloak.

They were about a hundred yards past a farmhouse, and the light from its windows was enough to show them a shadowy stand of trees just off the lane. Ron and Hermione waited there and Harry returned under the Cloak.

When he got back to the inn he saw an Auror standing next to the elm tree. As he approached he recognized Popeye, leaning against the tree trunk with his cloak wrapped tightly around him in the chilly night; he was gazing away from the inn towards Dervish and Banges; Harry gave him a wide berth and, with the Auror still looking away, quickly ducked in the back door, closing it quietly.

Ginny and Neville were waiting upstairs in the parlor, peering from the edge of the window. They had doused all the candles in the room and now Harry threw a one-way Opaqueness charm on the window, allowing them to look out without being seen. “How long has he been out there?” he asked.

“Just a couple of minutes,” Ginny said. “It doesn’t look like he’s leaving soon, either.”

“We’ll never all get out the back door without his noticing us, even under the Cloak.”

“Then let’s go out through the front,” Ginny said. “We can get one of the elves to open the door for us into the dining room, then we’ll just wait until someone leaves, and follow them out.”

“That might take a while. Maybe we should Floo someplace and Apparate back.”

“Where could we Floo to nearby without being noticed, and do you know where to Apparate? Did you get a clear enough look around when you were out there?”

“You don’t need to know precisely where you’re going.”

Harry was growing vexed; he wasn’t happy about leaving Ron and Hermione by themselves in the dark. He still had strong doubts about Pansy’s trustworthiness, and feared a trap as long as they were separated.

“Wait!” Neville held up his hand; he had been looking out the window. “He’s coming back inside.” They heard the back door open and close, and footsteps climbing the stairs.

“What the hell is he coming up here for?” Harry frowned. “Gin, use this. It’d be best if he doesn’t see a Hogwarts student here.” Harry tossed her the Cloak and Ginny threw it over herself.

There was a knock on the door and Harry opened it; Popeye nodded to him and Neville, who was standing right behind Harry.

“Good evening, Potter, Longbottom. I just noticed that the window was Opaqued. Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine. Is there an Opaque charm on the window?” Harry turned to look at it. “It looks clear to me. Neville, did you do anything to the window?”

“Oh, yeah, I was messing around with my wand. Sorry, mate, I should have mentioned it.”

Popeye eyed him for a moment. “Well, next time let us know if you’re experimenting. It’ll save us a trip upstairs. It looked kind of suspicious.”

“Sorry, I’ll be more careful.”

The Auror went back down. Harry watched him, hoping he would go into the kitchen, but he went out the back door and resumed his post next to the elm tree.

Harry grinned and slapped Neville on the back. “Good thinking. Now tell us how to get out of here.”

Ginny appeared near the kitchen door. “I just had an idea. Get George to create a diversion. I’m sure he’s already brought some goodies up to Hogsmeade. You wouldn’t even have to use the Cloak. In fact, I’ll come with you because a bunch of people probably noticed me when I came. We’ll make the arrangements with George, and you can come back in the open and I’ll come back under the Cloak. It’s perfect.”

“Blimey,” Harry said admiringly, “that’s really devious. You are definitely George’s sister. Wait here, Neville, we’ll be right back.”

It was a perfect plan. They walked out through the dining room without attracting much attention, and George—who was relieved to see Ginny—was more than willing to sacrifice a carton of Whizz-Bangs for the cause, even if he didn’t know what the cause was.

When they got back to the flat, Harry and Neville joined Ginny under the Cloak and they crept halfway down the stairs, waiting. As soon as George cut loose, there were shouts from inside the inn, the back door burst open, and Popeye raced through the vestibule and into the kitchen. They hurried down the stairs and out the back door. A minute later they were over the fence and on their way down the lane. They paused for a moment to look back at Hogsmeade. It wasn’t the best or the loudest firework display in the history of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, but it was more than adequate.

“I hope he won’t get into trouble,” Ginny said as they set off down the lane.

“George in trouble?” Harry snickered. “He’ll probably tell them he was celebrating a Muggle holiday.”

Ginny chuckled and put her arm in the crook of his. She spoke in a low voice. “I’m a little nervous. I’m going to be in trouble when I get back to school. . . .” She paused, and in the silence they all had the same thought.

“You’ll get back,” Harry said firmly. “It’s a no-brainer. We have the element of surprise, we’ll be invisible, they’re scared because there’s only half of them left, and we have two sort-of-trained Aurors.”

“Sort-of-trained Aurors?” Harry could almost hear Ginny’s eyebrows rise. He didn’t answer, though, because they had passed the farmhouse and were nearing the trees where Ron and Hermione were waiting. They walked a few yards farther and stopped.

“They should be just up ahead off to the side,” he whispered as they stood in the middle of the lane. He looked in both directions and took off the Cloak. In a minute they heard footsteps coming through the undergrowth, and Ron and Hermione came hurrying up.

“What was all that noise?” Ron asked. “It sounded like fireworks.”

“That’s exactly what it was,” Harry grinned, and told them how they had managed their escape.

“Cool,” said Ron. “It’s good you thought of that.”

“It was Ginny.”

Ginny smirked at Ron. “You’re not the only one in the family with a twisted mind.”

“Okay,” said Harry, “so what happens now? Should we Apparate to the path that crosses the lane where the —”

Hermione slapped her hand over his mouth, and Harry’s head jerked back. “Shh!” she whispered. “Don’t talk about it!”

Harry rubbed his lip and checked his fingers for blood. “Nice right jab,” he mumbled. “Am I getting a fat lip?”

“Not yet,” Hermione said, examining his face. “Maybe we should get out of the lane until we decide what to do.”

They went a few yards into the trees and stood in a small circle. “We should try to plan as much of this as we can,” Hermione continued. “Ron and I have been talking. We think that we and Neville should stay together when you go in. The important thing is to get Keesha out, so if some of them escape out another door, it’s okay. I mean, it’s not okay, but it’s not the most important thing.”

“I think we need to see what the house is like first,” said Harry. “Let’s not decide yet.”

“Okay, we’ll hold off on that. We also thought we should wait until there’s some daylight before you and Ginny go inside. That means waiting all night, though, so we weren’t sure if it was a good idea or not.”

“You two have been busy,” Harry observed. “But I think this one makes sense. It’ll be easier for us to see once we’re inside; we won’t have to light our wands. I’ll go along with that. The only thing is, where do we wait?”

“We should have waited in the inn,” Ron spoke, “but it’s too late now. So why don’t we walk to the house? It’ll kill another hour or so, and it’ll be less noisy than Apparating. If we’re going to camp out someplace, it might as well be near the house.”

They all agreed. Harry was about to lead them back to the lane, but Hermione took his arm.

“There’s one more thing we thought of, but we don’t know if it’s a good idea or not. We wondered if one of us should give up his wand for you to take inside. You can give it to Keesha, since you might have more trouble getting out than getting in.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Neville said, and drew a wand from his pocket. “Keesha’s dad gave this to me yesterday. It’s her wand, the one they found right along here.”

“Excellent!” said Harry. “Anything else?”

There was nothing else, so they set off again, moving quietly, listening for sounds in the night. They passed the last outlying farmhouse and came to the Muggle road. They waited off to the side until they could see no headlights in either direction and dashed across. Here the lane was rougher with more bends and curves, so they went more slowly and tried to make as little noise as possible.

In the dark, they almost missed the narrow path, but Ginny, who was walking with Harry behind the other three, spotted it as she was passing. They stopped and stood silently, listening. They heard nothing except the light breeze rustling scraggly weeds in the fields on either side.

“Okay,” Hermione whispered, “you have to take us to the house. Just don’t say anything.”

Harry led the way up the left-hand path. Ginny was behind him, followed by Neville and Hermione, with Ron bringing up the rear. The path went fairly straight, but gradually curved to the right towards the hills that were black shapes against the horizon. On either side were fields, empty now except for a few barely visible stalks of wheat and a few weeds. Harry went very slowly, sometimes feeling his way with his feet, sometimes stopping altogether to make sure he hadn’t strayed off the path.

In the darkness they each kept their hand on the back of the one in front. Harry felt Ginny grasping his cloak, and whenever he stopped completely to try to get a feel for the ground, she pressed her fingers into his back and put her head close to his shoulder. He was very conscious of her senses; it was almost as if her hearing was augmenting his. The same was true of vision; he noticed that when he glanced to one side or the other, in a direction where his own body was not blocking her line of sight, the landscape seemed not quite so dim.

After he stopped for the fourth time, he heard running water nearby. He turned and squatted; the others joined him. He couldn’t see their faces, only shapes in the dark. They all leaned in.

“I think we’re close,” he whispered almost inaudibly. “Can you hear the water? There’s a stream or a brook over there, and I think there are trees to our right. Everyone stay here; Ginny and I will go take a look.”

“What will you look at?” Ron whispered. “You can’t see a bloody thing, it’s too dark.”

“We can see. Just wait here.”

“Okay, but be careful.”

Harry pulled the Invisibility Cloak over himself and Ginny; for a few moments the others could hear their footsteps but soon all was quiet again.

They walked side-by-side holding hands, their arms pressed together. It was pitch dark, but Harry could swear that his vision was being doubled by Ginny’s, and so he was seeing things as though illuminated by a dim candle. He squeezed her hand and she squeezed back.

A grove of tall evergreens loomed ahead; in the almost-darkness the branches had a soft, velvety appearance. They walked between them, and felt the soft carpet of needles underfoot. About twenty yards into the grove, a large shadow rose. They walked slowly until the shape of the house became clear.

It was a two-story building, about twenty feet wide with a pitched roof. They moved closer and saw a door with a small stoop; there was a single, large window on either side of it. The upper story had two small dormers. There were no lights, or else the windows had been blacked out.

Harry nudged Ginny and pointed to the right. They walked along the front and around the corner; there were two windows on this side but no doors, and, below ground level, a small window in a well. Harry pointed to it and could feel Ginny’s head nod.

Around back was another door with windows to either side. Ginny tugged on Harry’s hand; he looked and saw a small structure about twenty feet beyond the back door. They walked to it; it was a shed with a door that was not locked. Ginny put her mouth to Harry’s ear.

“Do you think it’s under the Fidelius?”

“No way to tell,” he whispered back. “We can bring one of the others here to find out.”

They went back to the house and found two more windows on the fourth side. Harry gripped Ginny’s hand tightly and moved towards the window closer to the front; a tiny sliver of light was coming from it.

The windowsill was about three feet off the ground, and the tiny crack in the curtain—or whatever was covering it—was about a foot above that. Harry bent down and, careful not to touch anything, put his eye to it.

He could see a well-lit room. It was wallpapered in a light gray color with tiny designs of some kind. He could also see the end of a couch. He put his ear close to the glass and heard an indistinct voice but could not make out the words. He peered through the light-crack again and saw someone cross his line of vision. It was a large man, but he moved out of range before Harry could see anything else. Another figure followed him past the crack, and Harry sucked in his breath as, for an instant, he saw long, blond tresses.

He straightened and raised two fingers to Ginny, put his mouth to her ear and whispered, “Turquoise.”

He moved aside and indicated that Ginny should take a look. She didn’t have to bend as far, and kept her eye to the window for several minutes. When she finally looked up, she shook her head.

They walked to the front of the house and to a large tree about ten feet from it. When they were behind it, he whispered, “I’d like to see what that little cellar window is like. What do you think?”

Ginny was silent for a moment. “It would be good to know ahead of time if we can get in that way, but if we make a noise it’ll warn them that someone’s around.”

“Right, but I want to take a closer look.”

“Okay, then I also think you should touch it and see if there’s a warning charm.”

“You’re full of good ideas.”

They went back to the side and knelt next to the window well. They spread the Cloak over the well, and Harry leaned into it. He felt around, brushing away cobwebs and twigs, then ran his hands around the frame and felt it move. He was about to say something to Ginny when they heard a door open and footsteps from the back of the house. They scrambled up in time to see two cloaked figures peer around the side with lit wands raised high.

Holding their breaths, they backed away from the house. The two figures were silent for several moments.

“Must have been a fox again,” a gruff voice finally said. “Let’s walk around just to be sure.”

The other grunted and followed. They came within five feet of Harry and Ginny with their wands brightly lit. When they had passed around the front, Harry yanked Ginny’s hand.

“The back door,” he whispered.

They went quickly around back; the door was ajar, and Turquoise Southeby was standing just inside holding her wand, a worried frown on her face. Behind her was another witch whose face was not visible; they appeared to be standing in a kitchen.

In a moment the two wizards came from the other side. “Nothing,” said the first to Turquoise. “It was an animal. But there’s light coming out the side window. Your damn spell didn’t cover it.” They went inside, closed the door, and Turquoise’s response was lost.

Ginny pulled Harry’s hand. “Let’s go back,” she whispered. “The others will be worrying.”

They took off the Cloak once they were well away from the house and made their way to the path. The others were where they had left them, sitting on Ron’s cloak; he and Hermione were wrapped together in hers. Harry described the house, what they had seen inside, the little shed in back, and the basement window.

“There’s some kind of warning charm on it, and probably on the other windows and the doors. As soon as I touched the window two of the buggers came out.”

“I think you should take me there,” Hermione said. “I might be able to tell what the spell is. Maybe we can counter it.”

Harry nodded. “I wanted to do something like that but we didn’t have time. And if you can see that shed, someone can hide in it. It’s right outside the back door. You could get a shot at whoever comes out that way.”

They talked about the Death Eaters who had come outside, and about Turquoise. Both Harry and Ginny tried to describe the Death Eaters for Ron, who had seen photographs of some of the escapees, but he couldn’t identify them from the sketchy verbal pictures they drew.

Hermione asked about Turquoise. “Did she say anything?”

Harry shook his head. “She just stood there. There was another witch who we couldn’t see. Why do you ask?”

“We know she was Imperiused at least once, after your Christmas party. Did she look like she was under the Curse?”

“No. She looked perfectly normal.”

The breeze freshened, and they drew their cloaks tighter. “Do we have anything to eat?” Ron asked. They all looked at each other blankly.

“What a brilliant bunch we are,” Harry said. “No one remembered food.”

Hermione patted Ron’s arm. “At least we can get water from that stream. I’m sorry, sweetie, I should have thought of it.”

“It’s okay,” he muttered. “I need to lose weight.”

“No you don’t. You’re exactly the weight you should be for your age and height.”

“Hermione,” Harry interrupted, “let’s go back so you can take a look around.”

Ron gave Harry a thankful glance, and Harry and Hermione went off under the Invisibility Cloak. They retraced the way to the house but went more slowly because Harry couldn’t see as well this time; his vision was not being doubled by Ginny’s. When they got there, they went around back and Hermione gave a whispered, “Yes! I can see the shed.”

“Their first mistake,” Harry whispered back.

He led Hermione to the basement window and they knelt down next to it. Hermione carefully stuck her wand out, mumbled a spell, and shook her head.

“I can’t detect anything,” she whispered. “You try it, your wand is stronger. The spell is—”

“I know what it is.” Harry pointed his wand. “ _Specialis Revelio_.” He waited a moment, holding his wand steadily. Suddenly his hand shook for a split second, and he grinned at Hermione. “It’s Proeido, the same one I used at the inn.”

“Good,” whispered Hermione as they stood. “We should be able to figure out how to break it. But listen, Harry, I want to try something first. I want to lure them outside again, and see if you can get a better look through that back door.”

“Why? They’ll just start to get suspicious. We should leave them alone until we go in.”

“But the more we know, the better off we’ll be. If they thought it was a fox, it must not be uncommon for animals to set the spell off.” She paused; Harry could tell she was thinking. “And that means they’re not using it very intelligently. Please do it, Harry, I think they’re likely to make another mistake.”

Harry reluctantly agreed. He bent down over the window well and touched the glass. They quickly backed away when they heard a shout from inside. The back door opened and in a moment two figures strode past them, once again with their wands lit. Harry and Hermione went quickly to the back where they could see light streaming out the door.

Turquoise stood directly in the doorframe, blocking Harry’s view of the room behind her; however, he could see two people also standing there. Turquoise turned and Harry got a good look at them: two wizards who he did not recognize. He raised his wand.

“No!” Hermione hissed. “If you miss they’ll kill Keesha.”

“Two of them are outside and there’s three of them right in front of me,” he hissed back.  “That leaves only one inside, at most. We can rush them—”

“Dammit Harry, think! I can’t rush them, I can’t see anything but a bright light.”

“Okay, okay!” He lowered his wand.

At that moment the two Death Eaters came around from the other side, and Turquoise stepped out of the door; Hermione gasped when she saw her. The Death Eaters spoke to the blonde witch in low voices. Harry and Hermione moved slowly closer.

“... and I want a guard on both prisoners tonight,” they heard Turquoise say. “Something is going on out here. I don’t like it. Parkinson’s a day late.”

“I tell you, she skipped on us,” said one of the Death Eaters. “We should get out of here too.”

“Shut up!” Turquoise snapped. “Even if she did, we still have the girl. Now get inside!”

They all turned and went back in; the door closed and Harry and Hermione let out their breaths. Harry put his finger to his lips, and indicated with his thumb that they should leave.

They walked back to the little camp on the path and told the others what had happened.

“Two prisoners?” Ron said in surprise. “Who else is missing? I haven’t heard of anyone.”

Harry shrugged; he spread his own cloak on the ground and he, Ginny, and Neville huddled together under Ginny and Neville’s cloaks. “Whoever it is will be glad to see us. We ought to start thinking about what we’re going to do in the morning.”

They decided that Neville would hide in the shed and Ron and Hermione in the cover of the trees in front of the house. After Harry and Ginny got inside, they would find Keesha and the second prisoner and try to bring them out the back. As soon as Neville had them, he would Disapparate with them back to Hogsmeade and send Aurors to the house. The two couples would try to rejoin each other at the campsite, but if that was impossible, they would rendezvous at the intersection of the path and the lane and Disapparate back to the inn.

“Okay, now what about food?” Ron said. “Maybe someone can go back to Hogsmeade and get us something to eat.”

“Did everyone eat dinner?” Harry looked around. They all nodded, Ron reluctantly.

“Then I think we should all stay here,” Harry said. “One person shouldn’t go back alone, so if two went that would leave only three here.”

“I agree,” Neville spoke. “We should all stay in case they try something.”

“Well, how about summoning one of your elves,” Ron persisted. “They could—”

“No!” Hermione shook her head emphatically. “I will not allow a house-elf here. First of all, they would make too much noise when they Apparated, and second, it’s dangerous, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“But we’ll feel better in the morning if we have just a bite of something.”

“I’ll tell you what, Ron,” Ginny cut in, an edge to her voice, “I’ll bring you something from the kitchen as soon as Harry and I are inside, okay? How about porridge and sausages? Or would you prefer eggs and toast? Oh, and Harry can bring you a cup of coffee, how’s that?” She cocked a sarcastic eyebrow at him.

Ron didn’t answer but gave her a dirty look. He bowed his head, but when he looked up again he had a small grin.

“Mum always told us to eat a good breakfast. I’m just trying to do what my mum says.” They all chuckled, and Ginny gave his hand a squeeze.

“Now,” said Hermione, “we have to figure out how to break the warning spell. Do you think you could just terminate it?” she said to Harry.

He knit his brow. “They might notice that, but I have an idea. I played around a lot with that spell last fall. You can change the warning with a wand movement, and I figured out a movement that gives no warning at all. It isn’t in the spell book that Flitwick told me about, and I thought it was a little weird, but if it works we should be able to get inside.”

They took Ron’s cloak from the ground and he and Neville held it up between them. Harry cast the Proeido charm onto it, Hermione touched it with her hand, and Harry’s wand glowed a dull red. He cast the spell again with a figure-eight motion, and this time when Hermione touched it the phoenix wand did not react.

Ron pumped his fist. “Good job, mate!”

“I think we’re ready,” Hermione said. “All we need now is to set a watch, and a password and a counter.”

“What’s a counter?” Ginny asked.

“It’s what you answer when someone gives the password. That way they know they’ve found you. Any ideas?” She looked around.

“How about Dumbledore’s regiment?” Ginny offered. “Dumbledore is the password and regiment is the counter.”

“That’s perfect!” Harry grinned. “Another great idea. How do you know so much about military stuff?”

“Isn’t a regiment part of an army?”

No one knew for sure, but they all liked it. They set the watch, two at a time in overlapping two-hour shifts, and Neville and Harry took the first watch. The others got as comfortable as they could on the hard, cold ground and tried to sleep. After an hour, Neville went back and got Ginny; she and Harry sat against a nearby tree, facing the house. After another very slow hour Harry gave Ginny the Invisibility Cloak and went and got Ron, who joined Ginny.

An hour later, sometime after midnight, Hermione, who woke herself up, joined Ron. Ginny staggered back and crawled shivering under Harry’s cloak; he had conjured some cushions and a pillow, but put his arm out and she lay her head on it and snuggled up.

“How are you doing?” he whispered.

“I’m cold.”

Harry pulled her closer, kissed her brow, and cast a warming spell. “Tomorrow night we’ll sleep in the four-poster and pile on every comforter we have.”

“Tomorrow night I may be in permanent detention. McGonagall’s going to be furious. And we may have got Hagrid in trouble.”

“Not if we bring Keesha back.”

Ginny sighed. “Maybe.” She was quiet, and Harry started to drift back to sleep.

“Why do you think they picked Pansy for the Secret-Keeper,” Ginny said.

“Huh?” he said groggily.

“Doesn’t it seem strange that a bunch of Death Eater reprobates would pick someone like her as their Secret-Keeper?”

Harry yawned. “I don’t know. Maybe she volunteered. Maybe she knew Turquoise from that restaurant she worked in. And remember that one of the Death Eaters was from the same village as Pansy and had the same last name.”

“Hmm.” She was quiet again, and Harry started to drift off.

“There’s something else.” Ginny’s voice woke him again. “Pansy said that revenge wasn’t the reason for all the Dark Marks and the Turntongue. What did she say it was? You told me but I can’t remember.”

“Uh . . .” Harry tried to think; his brain was foggy and all he wanted to do was sleep. “She said ‘something else.’ Yeah, ‘something else.’”

“Hmm.” Ginny put her hands inside his shirt and Harry sucked in his breath.

“God, your hands are freezing!” he whispered.

“You should feel my feet. I told you I was cold. But you feel warm and toasty.” She pulled him so that he was partly on top of her. “That’s nice,” she said into his ear. “I’m warming up now.”

“I’m glad . . .”

Harry’s voice trailed off and his breathing became quiet and regular. Ginny felt for her wand and said the incantation for another warming spell; she knew it wouldn’t last, but Harry gave a deep, satisfied sigh and did his best to cover even more of her. She lifted her head and kissed his lips and they slept until, two hours later, Hermione woke Harry and he joined Neville on the watch.

“How’s it going?” Harry asked quietly as he sat against the tree. Neville was hunched over, wrapped in his cloak, his arms around his knees.

“Okay. Nothing’s happened.”

It sounded like a comment as well as an observation. “Don’t worry, mate,” Harry whispered. “We’ll get her out. Just be ready to leave fast.”

“Harry, if they hurt her, I’m coming back.”

Harry didn’t answer at first; he knew how he would feel, how he _did_ feel during the ambush when Ginny had been hit. He couldn’t fault Neville for feeling the same.

“I know,” he said, “but if you do something to them, it won’t help Keesha and it might keep you from her.”

Neville looked at Harry from the corner of his eye. “Thanks for the advice,” he said with a note of uncharacteristic sarcasm.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said. “I guess we all have to do what we have to do.”

Neville was silent; he shifted on the ground and pulled the collar of his cloak tighter. “It’s freezing out here,” he muttered. “I hope she’s not cold.”

It was colder and darker an hour later when Neville went to get Ginny. She sat shivering next to Harry and they wrapped themselves in their two cloaks. “All’s quiet,” Harry whispered as he put his arm around her.

“I’ve been thinking about what Pansy said. You know, ‘something else.’”

“And? What do you think she meant?”

“It must have something to do with you. I was wondering if Umbridge knew anything about the Elder Wand.”

Harry frowned. “Merlin, I hope not. But I don’t see how she could. Riddle didn’t talk about it, as far as I could tell, and certainly he wouldn’t have had any reason to talk to her.”

“I guess you’re right. Well, it was worth a shot. There must be something else.”

“That’s what she said,” Harry grinned in the dark.

Ginny chuckled, and put her head on his shoulder. “We should go camping in the summer. I can see that I’d like to be alone with you in a tent in some remote place for a couple of weeks.”

Harry laughed softly. “But a heated tent.”

“Of course, a magical tent with a bed and a kitchen. Just like the one you had last year.”

“Okay, that’ll be your birthday present. Then we’ll take three months off after the honeymoon, and I’ll show you all the scenic locations we visited.”

“No, silly, I don’t want to go to any of those nasty places. How about Ireland? I’ve never been there.”

“Sounds good. Seamus can give us some tips about where to go.”

“That’ll be nice.”

Ginny sighed and Harry looked at her; she was gazing towards the house, a dark shape about fifty yards away through the trees and past a few low bushes. His hand found hers; it was sweaty. “Are you okay?”

“I’m a little nervous.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“I thought you were a trained Auror,” she smiled. “You shouldn’t be nervous.”

“I said a _sort-of_ trained Auror.” He lifted her hand and kissed it. “Look, here’s the way I see it. We’ll be invisible, so even if they know we’re there, we’ll have the advantage. We can create a lot of chaos, and that’ll help us. They even might start shooting at each other.”

“What about Keesha? She might be hurt. What if we have to carry her?”

“Or, she might be mad as a hornet and itching to get her hands on her wand.”

“Okay, Mr. Sort-Of-Auror, I’ll defer to your expertise.”

Soon Harry’s last hour was up and he woke Ron, then tried to sleep, but found himself going over and over in his mind what might happen inside the house. But when he found Ginny lying next to him under his cloak, he realized that he had fallen asleep. They slept on their sides, Ginny spooned with her back to Harry, his arm encircling and warming her.

Ron and Hermione woke them all up as the eastern sky was starting to lighten, and they made their final plans.

“If you can use non-verbal spells, now’s the time to do it,” Hermione said when they had gathered in a tight circle. “And be sure to take their wands if you Stun or Bind them. In fact, if you get a chance you might try to break them. Do you have Keesha’s wand?”

Harry produced the wand from a pocket and stuck it through his belt. “Once we have her, if I have to, I’m going to blast a hole through the wall, so keep your heads down. I have no idea what happens to the Fidelius when you do that.”

“I don’t either,” said Hermione. “Be careful.”

Nearby trees were becoming visible, so Harry and Neville got under the Invisibility Cloak and went back to the house. It was still perfectly quiet as they opened the door to the shed. Neville peered inside; it was empty except for a few rusty gardening tools. He turned to Harry.

“Sorry about what I said last night,” he whispered. “Good luck!”

Harry gripped his arm. “Be ready!”

He stepped out and closed the door. Back at the campsite Ron and Hermione joined him under the Cloak. In front of the house they found a low bush about ten yards from the front door; it was thick but not high. They would have to lie on the ground, but as long as they didn’t move, they ought to be hidden well enough.

Harry went back for Ginny; by now it was light enough that they could just make out the house through the trees. Before they put the Cloak on he held her tightly for a moment and kissed her.

Harry had an eerie sensation as they walked. He looked to the side, almost expecting to see ghosts floating alongside: his parents, Sirius, Remus. He felt Ginny’s grip on his hand tighten and he knew she was aware of what he was thinking: neither of them knew what they were walking towards. Harry sensed her own uneasiness and pressed her hand to his lips. She turned her head and smiled.

They saw Ron and Hermione lying prone on the ground; Ron had put his hood over his head, and Harry wondered if that was something he had been taught to do in the training program. His bright red hair would certainly be noticeable otherwise.

They went quietly around the side of the house and stopped in front of the cellar window. Harry took one last look around and they bent over the well. He moved his wand in a figure-eight and whispered, “ _Proeido_.” Ginny gripped his hand tightly as he touched the glass with his wand. They held their breaths, waiting and listening, but heard nothing.

Harry nodded to Ginny, and they bent over the well once again. He pushed, then pulled on the window, but it didn’t move. He pointed his wand. _”Alohomora_ ,” he whispered. The window swung open; there was now an opening into the house about two feet high and three feet wide.

“Let me take a look,” Ginny whispered. Harry squatted next to the well while Ginny stuck her head through the window. He peered around nervously, but looked back at the window when a brief, dim glow came from her wand.

She pulled herself out. “It’s a ratty storeroom. There’s nothing in it but junk. There’s one door.”

“Can we get in without making noise?” he whispered.

“I think so. You’ll have to lower me, it’s about six feet to the floor.”

She slipped out of the Cloak and went in feet-first while Harry gripped her hands and slowly let her down. “Okay, I’m in,” she whispered. Harry took a final look at the lightening landscape and clambered through the window. When he was on the floor he took off the Cloak and pointed his wand. _”Fermatus,”_ he whispered; the window closed and the latch clicked shut.

Ginny’s wand was lit and they looked around. It was a small, dusty, cob-webbed room with a few empty shelves and several dust-shrouded cartons on the floor; nothing looked like it had been touched in years.

In front of them was a door; Harry put his ear to it. He heard nothing, but as he turned the handle, there were footsteps on the ceiling overhead.

“Someone’s up,” Ginny whispered. Harry nodded, opened the door six inches and, lighting his wand, peered out.

He saw a short, dank hall with steps at one end leading up. In the other direction were two doors, both with solid-looking padlocks on hasps. He waited for a minute; when he heard no more footsteps he opened the door all the way and they stepped into the hallway. He closed the door, threw the Cloak over them and they walked to the nearest locked door.

There were more footsteps and voices from above. They froze, not breathing, looking up. The footsteps moved away and it was silent.

Harry put his mouth to Ginny’s ear. “Be ready to catch the lock,” he whispered. Ginny grasped it through the Cloak, and Harry pointed his wand. ” _Alohomora,”_ he muttered. The lock gave a loud click, and their hearts jumped in their throats. They looked up and at each other. Ginny took a breath and removed the lock from the hasp and set it on the floor. Harry turned the handle and pushed the door open.

It was a room about the size of the one they had entered by, but it was windowless with no obvious source of light. Harry put his arm outside the Cloak and lit his wand. They saw a small table with an unlit candle on it next to a narrow cot. On the cot lay a woman whose eyes were staring at the wand floating in the air. Her hands were clutching a flimsy, tattered blanket to her chest. Harry and Ginny gaped open-mouthed at the gaunt, frightened, battered face and the long, stringy, disheveled blonde hair of Turquoise Southeby.

 


	45. Mistress of the Hallow

Harry yanked the Cloak off and Turquoise’s face slid into shock. She pulled the ragged blanket up to her chin and shrank away from him. Her eyes were wild with fright, shifting from Harry to Ginny and back. She opened her mouth and tried to speak, but nothing came out of her blistered, cracked lips.

“What are you doing here?” Harry whispered and took a step towards her.

She tried to wet her lips with her tongue. “Water,” she pleaded in a strangled voice, reaching her hand to them. “Please, water.”

Ginny looked at Turquoise with a mixture of pity and horror. “Will Aguamenti work?” she asked Harry.

“I don’t know. It’s magical water, but let’s try.” He cast his eye around the room. “There’s nothing to put it in.”

“Wait!” Ginny took the candlestick from the stool it was sitting on, yanked the candle out and pointed her wand at the candle holder. “ _Scourgify! Engorgio!_ ” The little cup-shape suddenly gleamed bright and started to enlarge. When it was about three inches wide she held it up for Harry. He filled it with water from his wand and handed it to Turquoise.

She was watching with her mouth open, and as Harry gave her the makeshift cup he got a close look at her face. It looked like she had been hit with a fist several times, and he felt a rush of pity; she was undeniably a beautiful woman, but now her face was covered with bruises, her left eye was swollen and purple, and her lips were cracked and puffy.

She struggled to a sitting position and put the enchanted cup to her mouth; instantly the water vanished. She gave a little whimper and looked at him piteously.

“Damn!” Harry knelt next to the cot. “We’ll get you out of here,” he whispered. “Can you tell us anything about them? Is Keesha in the room across the hall? Is she hurt?”

Ginny came and knelt next to him; Turquoise would not meet her eyes, but looked down. “Why did they do this to you?” Ginny murmured.

Turquoise’s eyes flitted to her but again lowered. “I’m sorry,” she said in a barely audible croak. “Please forgive me.” She licked her dry lips with a dry tongue and lay back down, looking up at Harry.

“It’s okay,” he said. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Ginny stood and pulled on his cloak. “We have to find Keesha,” she whispered. “Someone’s bound to come down here soon.”

Harry reached out and took Turquoise’s hand. “We’ll be back, I promise.” Turquoise clutched it, but finally Harry stood and she reluctantly let go and let her hand drop; neither Harry nor Ginny could think of anything else to say.

They put the Cloak back on and cautiously opened the door; across the narrow hall they could see, by the low light of Ginny’s wand, the other door with an identical padlock. They left Turquoise’s room and closed the door behind them, then removed the second padlock and pushed the door; it creaked loudly and they stopped. They listened, but there were no sounds from above. Harry gave the door a little shove and it squeaked again. He looked at Ginny. “We have to do something about that,” he whispered.

She pointed her wand. ” _Lubricose._ ” She pushed the door and it swung silently open.

They peered inside, and immediately a figure on a cot like the one in the other room lifted her head.

“Who is it? What do you want?” came Keesha’s belligerent voice.

They stepped in, closed the door, and threw off the Cloak. They both lit their wands and saw Keesha beaming at them. She was wearing the clothes she had been wearing in Hogsmeade, and when she sat up they saw that she was chained to the wall with a shackle around her leg that clanked as she moved.

“Are you hurt?” Harry whispered, and glanced nervously at the ceiling.

“No. Get this goddamned chain off my leg. Where’s Neville. Did he come with you? How did you find the place?”

Ginny knelt next to the cot and shushed her while Harry’s Relashio removed the shackle. “Neville is outside,” Ginny said quietly. “Pansy told Harry and me where the house was.“

“Pansy?” Keesha examined her ankle; the skin was chafed and the ankle was swollen. “Was she the Secret-Keeper?”

“Yes. Let me see your leg.” Ginny pushed her hand aside and examined the wound. “Keesha, it looks like it’s infected. Can you stand on it?”

She and Harry helped her up, but Keesha immediately sucked in her breath and sat back down. “Damn! That hurts.”

Ginny looked at Harry. “What are we going to do? We can’t carry both of them and fight at the same time.”

“Both of who?” Keesha looked from one to the other.

“You and Turquoise,” Harry said, frowning. “She’s locked in the room across the hall. They beat her up and it looks like they aren’t giving her much food or water.”

“Turquoise? Turquoise Southeby?” Keesha stared in disbelief. “She’s the one who’s giving the orders. How could she be locked up?”

“We don’t have time to explain,” Harry said. “And keep your voice down. They don’t know we’re here yet.”

“Merlin, I’m gone four days and everything goes nutters. And don’t worry about noise. I scream at them as often as I can, just for the hell of it. They pretty much ignore me. But they’ll be down soon with breakfast.” She made a face. “I’ll never complain about my mum’s cooking again.”

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Harry handed her wand to her. “Your dad found this and your cloak in the lane outside Hogsmeade.”

Keesha took it with a grin. “I managed to Stun one of them, a witch, but another one disarmed me.” She waved it and a flame shot out the end; her eyes also lit up. “Get them to come down here, especially the witch with the big wart on her nose. I owe her.”

“That gives me an idea,” Harry said. “How many of them bring your food?”

“Just one.’

He looked at Ginny. “My idea is to wait down here. We shouldn’t have any trouble dealing with just one, and that will leave only four upstairs.”

“Four?” Keesha frowned. “I thought you said Southeby was over there.” She nodded towards the door.

“I think there are two Southebys,” Harry said. “Or one and an impersonator.” He held up his hand to stop Keesha’s next question. “Let’s get out of here first.”

They all looked up at several sets of footsteps. Muffled voices spoke, followed by silence.

Suddenly Ginny gave a start. “The locks! They’ll see that the locks are missing!”

Harry swore and looked up as they heard more footsteps. “Come on! We’ll wait in the hallway!”

Keesha lay down and placed the shackle on top of her ankle, grimacing, holding her wand at her side. “I’ll Stupefy the bastard as soon as he comes in,” she whispered. “If it’s the witch, I may do a few other things.”

Harry and Ginny slipped back into the hallway. Harry snapped the padlock back onto Keesha’s door while Ginny picked the other one from the floor and put it back on Turquoise’s door. They donned the Cloak and moved to stand underneath the steps that led up to the ground floor. Harry took Ginny’s hand and they waited.

Time seemed to slow; the Death Eaters apparently were in no hurry to feed their prisoners. Harry began to shift from foot to foot, and Ginny could hear his breath between his clenched teeth. He became more and more restless and his hand began squeezing hers.

She stood on her tiptoes and put her mouth to his ear and whispered, “Harry.”

“What?”

She put her tongue in his ear. Harry jumped and turned his head; Ginny couldn’t see him in the pitch black, but she knew the look that was on his face. She put her mouth back to his ear.

“Take it easy, sweetie,” she whispered. “They’ll come to us. All we have to do is wait.”

“You are evil,” he said quietly, but Ginny could feel him relax. She twined her fingers through his, and they waited.

Several minutes later the door at the top of the stairs opened. Heavy footsteps descended and the brief flood of light from the open door was replaced with the glow of a single wand. They watched boots clumping down the steps in front of them, and a large shadow turned towards the doors.

They followed the Death Eater as he walked the few feet to the first locked door, and could see that he was carrying a flask and a bowl while holding his wand. When he got to Turquoise’s room, he put the bowl and flask down and yanked at the padlock. Satisfied that it was secure, he stepped over the bowl and flask to Keesha’s door and pointed his wand.

Harry and Ginny had crept to within a yard of him, and waited just behind the bowl and flask. The Death Eater muttered the charm and the lock snapped open. He removed it, turned the handle, and pushed the door. He went back and picked up the flask and bowl; this time Harry and Ginny followed him. He kicked the door, it swung open, and a white flame struck him squarely in the chest. As he fell backward, Harry flung the Cloak off, put his arms under him as he toppled into the hall, and Ginny deftly plucked the bowl and flask out of his hands.

Keesha came hobbling out into the corridor, her wand lit and with a satisfied grin. She looked at the Death Eater as he lay rigid, supported by Harry; the man stared back at her with eyes full of incomprehension.

Ginny took his wand, and Harry laid him on the floor. He and Ginny dragged his inert form into Keesha’s room and left him against the wall. “Where’s his wand?” Harry said. Ginny held it up, set it on the floor, and stepped back. Harry pointed the phoenix wand at it; with a burst of blue light it splintered into a dozen pieces. He picked them up and examined them. “Looks like dragon heartstring,” he observed, and threw the collection of sticks onto the chest of the prone Death Eater. The man’s face couldn’t move, but his eyes blazed with hatred.

Keesha was taking a drink of water from the flask. “Keesha!” Ginny said in a loud whisper, “Turquoise needs water. Don’t drink all of it.”

Keesha handed the flask to Harry, “Here, take it to her. Then let’s get out of here. Do you think we can Disapparate?”

“I doubt it,” Harry said, “but we’ll give it a try. Gin, wait here.”

Harry opened the door across the hallway and took the flask to Turquoise. She was lying on the cot, watching the door. Her eyes seemed hopeless, but they widened when she saw the flask. Harry held her head up and she drank quickly, but spit it up in a coughing fit. Harry glanced up at the ceiling; he heard footsteps again and put his finger to his lips. Turquoise also looked up. When the sounds ceased, she drank again in small sips.

“Thank you,” she whispered, and Harry put her head back on the bed.

“Can you walk?” he asked.

“Don’t know. I haven’t tried in . . . in a while.” She struggled to sit up, and Harry took her hand and put his arm around her back. She was still clutching the blanket to her chest; her clothes were little more than rags, and Harry conjured a cloak that she gratefully wrapped around herself. He helped her rise, and she took slow, shuffling steps, but as she moved she seemed to gain strength. They crossed the hall, and when Harry opened the door both Ginny and Keesha stared at them. Harry was holding Turquoise up and her arm was on his shoulder. Ginny’s eyes narrowed for an instant, but when she realized that Turquoise could barely stand, let alone walk on her own, she came and took the girl from Harry; he conjured a chair and she fell into it.

Harry glanced at the Death Eater lying immobile on the floor. “Someone’s going to start missing him soon. We’ll try to Disapparate back to the camp,” he whispered. “If it works, I’ll come back and get the others.”

“I’ll come back with you,” Ginny said. “The Death Eaters will probably hear us and they’ll come looking.”

Harry frowned. “Once we get out, I think you should stay with Keesha and her,” he indicated Turquoise, who was eating from the bowl of porridge that Keesha had handed to her; she stopped eating and looked at them.

Now Ginny was frowning. “That doesn’t make sense, Harry. The fight will be here. Once Keesha’s outside, she can Disapparate back to Hogsmeade and—”

“Absolutely no way am I leaving here if there’s a fight,” Keesha declared, and clapped her hand over her mouth. They all peered up at the ceiling. Footsteps stopped directly over their heads.

Harry swore, and grabbed Turquoise’s hand. “Hold on!” he whispered to Ginny and Keesha. They each grabbed an arm and he tried to Disapparate, but nothing happened.

He swore again. “Wait here!” He dashed into the hall, replaced the padlock on the other room and ran back into Keesha’s.

“No time to argue,” he said, glaring at both Ginny and Keesha. “Ginny and I are going upstairs; we have to keep them from trapping us down here. I’ll lock this door behind us, and if anyone tries to come in, you’ll just have to do your best,” he said to Keesha. He lowered his voice. “If we come back we’ll give you the password, Dumbledore. You answer, regiment. Got it?” Keesha nodded.

Ginny was already out in the hallway, and as Harry was about to join her, Turquoise called out, “Harry, good luck.” He nodded once, closed the door, and put the padlock back on.

They could hear loud voices from upstairs, and one woman’s voice, louder than the others, asking questions. At the foot of the steps leading to the first floor they put the Cloak over themselves and started climbing. They both put their ears to the door, and the voices became quite clear, coming from the room on the other side.

“What’s taking him so long?” the woman demanded; it sounded like Turquoise Southeby. “Kleinhead, go see what’s going on.”

“He probably found something to occupy his time with,” someone sniggered.

There were loud footsteps and a slap. “I told you idiots to leave them alone!” the woman shouted. “Get down there and bring him back up! If he’s touched her it’ll be the last thing he ever touches! Now go!”

Footsteps hurried towards the door. “Back!” Harry hissed, and he and Ginny scrambled down. They were barely off the bottom step when the door opened and the man came clattering down, glancing once apprehensively over his shoulder. Harry and Ginny pressed against the wall and he brushed past them, too intent on his mission and too frightened to notice when he bumped against Harry’s shoulder.

As soon as he was past, Harry put his arm out and a white flame shot from his wand. The man gave a loud grunt and went stiff; his momentum tilted him forward and he crashed face first to the floor, where he lay still.

“What happened?” a voice came from the top of the steps. “Dace?”

Harry and Ginny glanced at each other, and Harry moved. He ducked from under the Cloak and sent a spell up the stairs. There was a loud bang and shouts.

“It’s Potter! He’s in the cellar!”

Harry dashed up the stairs in time to see a figure disappearing through a door at the other end of the room. He looked quickly around and saw that he was in the parlor that he and Ginny had spied on last night. He pointed his wand at the wall along the side of the house.

” _Confringo!_ ” he shouted, and covered his head with his arms as the entire wall exploded out and parts of the ceiling caved in.

He backed into the doorway at the top of the steps and felt a hand on his back. “What are you doing?” Ginny yelled as pieces of the ceiling continued to fall.

“Wait here!” He ran across the room to the other door. It was open and he found himself in the kitchen. A spell sizzled over his head and he whirled. ” _Protego!”_ His Shield came up just as the next spell hit with a loud bang, sending up a shower of sparks. Someone ran around a corner into another room. Harry turned. _”Confringo!”_ he shouted again, and backed out the door the Death Eater had exited as the back wall of the house blew out and the kitchen ceiling completely collapsed with a giant roar. Floundering in the middle of the pile of rubble and smashed furniture was a Death Eater who had been in the room above. She tried to rise; her wand waved wildly and sent curses and spells in every direction. Harry took careful aim; a red spell sent the witch flying across the room and out the missing wall. She skidded on her back and came to a stop in front of the shed behind the house. As Harry watched, the door opened and Neville peered out at the Stunned Death Eater; he looked goggle-eyed at what Harry assumed was a pile of rubble which was all that was left of the back wall.

“Harry!” came a whisper from behind. He whirled and saw a wand floating in the air. Ginny peeked out from under the Cloak and beckoned to him. “There’s only two left, and I’m pretty sure they’re upstairs.”

He joined her under the Cloak and they moved through a dining room back towards the front of the house. “I don’t think you should blow out any more walls,” she whispered. “You might collapse the whole house.”

“Where are the stairs? I’m going up, but I want you to stay down here.”

“No, dammit!” Ginny whispered. “I’m coming with you!” Harry pressed his lips together but said nothing.

The staircase was in an entrance hallway at the front door. They carefully climbed and came to a landing with four doors. Two of them were open and they could see through them that the rooms had no floors, collapsed when Harry had exploded the walls on the first floor. They peered through the doors but saw no way that anyone could be inside.

They approached the third door. Harry held Ginny back and she made a growling noise in her throat. He lifted the Cloak off himself so that it still covered Ginny, and kicked the door open.

A green flame shot out and exploded against the opposite wall. Harry dove into the room, rolled on the floor and came up firing a barrage of spells at the form crouching in a corner behind a bed. The frame shattered; splinters of wood and shreds of bedclothes flew up. Harry kept firing until the bed was demolished and he could see the man slumped against the wall, smoke rising in wisps from his hair.

Harry looked around the room; there was a closet that had received several hits from his volley, and behind him another bed. The closet door was hanging open on one hinge and the clothes inside were smoldering. He got up, poked his wand into the closet, and walked over to the unconscious Death Eater. His face and arms were covered with dozens of scratches and several larger wounds; pieces and splinters of wood from the bed frame lay all about him. His wand was on the floor next to him; Harry cast another spell and it shattered.

“That was quite a show.” Ginny’s voice came from behind him; she had taken off the Cloak and was looking around the room.

“He used a Killing Curse,” Harry said grimly. “He tried to kill us both.”

Ginny put her hand on his arm and looked down at the Death Eater’s bloody face. “I don’t think he’ll be trying it again soon.” She leaned against Harry. “If you hadn’t pushed me back he would have hit at least one of us.”

“I know.”

They heard another piece of ceiling fall into the first floor, and Ginny slung the Cloak over them both. “One more left,” she whispered. “The other Southeby.”

They went into the landing and Harry opened the fourth door with Alohomora, waited for fifteen seconds and, still under the Cloak, peered inside. It was another bedroom with two beds, a closet, and a partially collapsed floor. He went in, leaving Ginny under the Cloak, and quickly searched the room. No one was there, so they descended to the ground floor under the Cloak and retraced their steps through each room. From the rubble-strewn kitchen they could still see the body lying in front of the shed, but Neville was not visible; either he had left or had gone back inside and closed the door.

“Should we go tell him what happened?” Harry whispered.

“No! If she’s watching she’ll know someone’s in there.”

Harry nodded, and they continued into the sitting room, where large chunks of the ceiling lay shattered on the floor. Through the hole that Harry had blasted in the wall they could see trees and bright morning sunshine that seemed to be part of a different universe.

There was only one more place to look, and they paused at the door to the cellar steps. “Someone should wait up here,” Harry said. “If she’s down there, it would be too easy to trap both of us.”

They looked at each other for a moment. “I’ll wait,” Ginny said.

Harry paused for a moment. “Okay, but you keep the Cloak. No arguments!”

Ginny gave a reluctant nod. “Love, be careful.” She kissed him full on the lips and gave him a little push toward the stairs. As he descended, he looked back. Her hand appeared and she waved him on.

He kept going. At the bottom he paused and tried to make out details in the short hallway from the light coming down the stairs. The Death Eater was still lying face down on the floor, both doors were closed, and the padlocks were still in place. He stepped over the Death Eater and went to the door where Keesha and Turquoise were waiting. He cast a Muffliato spell on the Death Eater and knocked once on the door; after a moment Keesha’s voice said, “Who is it?”

“Dumbledore,” he said with his face close to the door.

“Regiment,” came the reply.

Harry quickly undid the padlock and opened the door; he stepped inside and closed it behind him. Keesha, with a lit wand, stood to one side; Turquoise was behind her, and the Death Eater was still lying rigid on the floor.

“Has anyone been down here?” he whispered to Keesha.

“No. What was all the racket upstairs? I thought the ceiling was going to fall in. Where’s Ginny?”

Harry grinned. “The house has sustained some damage. Ginny’s waiting upstairs. We got all of them except one. And we caught a glimpse of Neville. He’s still waiting outside. But you’re sure no one came downstairs?” He frowned.

“We didn’t hear anyone, but if they came when all that noise was happening we wouldn’t have heard them. But can’t we go? Let’s just walk out. We have three wands.”

“Can you walk?” Harry looked at her leg, and suddenly remembered that Ginny knew at least one healing charm; she had used it on his foot last summer when he stepped on a rock in the lane outside the Burrow.

“I can limp. Harry, let’s just get out.”

“Okay,” he put his hand on the door handle. “Ginny’s waiting at the top of the stairs. If you can get that far, she can—"

With a loud explosion the door blew open. It and Harry flew across the room and crashed against the wall behind the cot. He slid onto the cot and the door fell on top of him. He heard a scream that was cut short by two loud bangs. He tried to sit up, but was dizzy; his head had been hit by the door and had slammed into the wall. He pushed against the weight on top of him, and suddenly the door rose and flew to the side and fell noisily to the floor. He could see an out-of-focus figure in front of him, and realized that his eyeglasses had been blown off his face.

As the shape approached it came slightly into focus and he could see the long blonde hair and shapely figure of Turquoise Southeby. “You’re not her!” he croaked, and raised his hand, which somehow still held his wand.

His mind was too befuddled, and his non-verbal spell produced nothing. Before he could speak, the mouth of Turquoise said, ” _Expelliarmus!_ ” and his wand flew out of his hand and clattered against the wall. It fell onto the floor and the new Turquoise reached down and picked it up.

“Hello, Harry,” she said in the same flirtatious voice she had used a dozen times with him. “I’ve heard wonderful things about this wand. Are they true? I’d like to know before you die. I’ve heard all kinds of rumors, but you know what rumors are like; you can’t believe half of what you hear.” She tucked his wand through her belt behind her back and smiled sweetly. “I also want to know about that piece of him. Mmm-hmm, you know what I mean, dear boy.”

Harry tried to think, but he was having moments of blackness. All of his senses wavered; his vision went black and came back into partial focus; nothing was constant in his hearing except the ringing in his ears; her voice faded, got stronger, and faded again. He tried to speak but nothing came out of his mouth.

“Oh, poor, dear Potter. You’re having trouble concentrating.” Her face came closer and Harry was able to make out her blue eyes and long, fluttering lashes. He opened his mouth again, but she slapped it. “Or maybe you’re having trouble remembering. I’ll help you.”

Her leering face was inches from his. She jammed her wand into his stomach and said, ” _Crucio!_ ”

A sheet of unbearable pain engulfed Harry. His eyes bulged, his mouth gaped in a soundless scream, his back arched; his entire body was on fire. He could not get a breath.  Turquoise’s face remained an inch from his, her mouth open in a gleeful smile as Harry writhed in agony.

He did not see the wand floating through the air behind Turquoise’s head. It suddenly whipped around, and at the same time her head jerked back as though someone had yanked her hair. The wand was rammed into her nostril.

 _“Stupefy!”_ Ginny screamed. Turquoise’s nose exploded in a spray of blood. She fell back onto the floor and her head hit it with a dull thud; Ginny fell onto her chest with her knees and wrenched the wand from her hand. She pointed her own wand and muttered, _”Episkey,”_ and the blood stopped gushing from her shredded nose.

Ginny pushed off, causing a grunt to escape Turquoise’s mouth, and turned and went to Harry. He was gasping for breath and clutching his stomach. Ginny pushed him down on the cot. She saw his eyeglasses lying behind him against the wall and gently put them on his face. “Don’t try to talk,” she said as she cradled his head in her arms. She stroked his forehead and leaned down and kissed him. “It’s over, love. She’s—”

There was a louder grunt, and fabric ripped; Ginny looked around at the form lying on the floor and cried out. It was no longer Turquoise Southeby. In her place was a short, squat, dumpy witch with a broad, flaccid face and heavy jowls. She still had on Turquoise’s clothes, which were much too small and were in the process of bursting at the seams.

Ginny looked back at Harry with wide eyes; he was sitting up now, still catching his breath with his hand on his middle, staring at the body on the floor.

“We were right!” he gasped. “Polyjuice! Umbridge! She was behind it all from the start. I knew it!” He paused to catch his breath.

But suddenly his breath stopped. He raised his right hand, closed it into a fist, and stared at Umbridge.

“Ginny,” he whispered in a choked voice. “She defeated my wand.”

Ginny rose with her eyes ablaze and, using her foot, rolled Umbridge onto her stomach. She took Harry’s wand from Umbridge’s belt and handed it to him. “There, now you have it back. We’ll just Obliviate her and that will be that. “She glanced at the inert forms of Keesha and the real Turquoise. “They didn’t see anything, so no one will ever know. I guess we’ll have to do that one too.” She pointed to the Death Eater lying on the floor; his eyes registered fear and rage.

“But—but Ginny, you don’t understand. You took her wand from her after she took mine from me. You defeated _her_ wand.” He was still whispering, and now he took her hand.

Ginny swallowed; in a long silence, she looked from Harry to Umbridge. Harry took her face in his hands; he held it and slowly smiled.

“Gin, don’t you see? This couldn’t be better. _You_ are the master of the Elder Wand now, but no one will ever know. We don’t even have to tell Ron and Hermione, unless you want to. But the whole world will still think that _I’m_ the master. If anyone wants to challenge for it, they’ll still come after me, but even if they defeat me, they won’t posses it. It’s perfect!”

Ginny stared at him, wondering what she should be feeling. Harry had told her all about the Deathly Hallows and the history of the Elder Wand, but that was like a myth from the past; it had to do with wizards and witches from centuries ago and lands far away, not with her. She was Ginny Weasley, an ordinary witch from an ordinary wizarding family.

It didn’t seem right that someone as normal and unambitious as she should be thrust into a role that she never, ever wanted or even dreamed of. She didn’t like the idea that, if it ever became known that she was the master—or mistress; she liked that better—she might be challenged by some power-hungry lunatic looking for immortality.

But as she gazed into Harry’s green eyes, feeling a roil of both his and her emotions rising and falling like the swell of the sea, she realized that this new twist was just another turn in their lives, and that their lives had become so bound and entwined that it was of no consequence who was the master or mistress of the wand. Whoever challenged her would also be challenging Harry. There was no separating them, not in this or in anything else.

Harry was still holding her face and smiling. Ginny blinked. “Harry,” she murmured, “it doesn’t matter which one of us it is. If someone fights one of us, they’ll have to fight both of us.”

“Yes, that’s how I feel too.”

Ginny took a breath. “I want Hermione to Obliviate them; she’s the best at things like that, so we’ll have to tell her and Ron.”

Harry nodded. “That makes sense. But first . . .” He took Umbridge’s wand from Ginny and placed it on the floor. “Destroy it.”

Ginny pointed her wand; with another flash of blue light, Umbridge’s wand shattered. Ginny gathered the pieces and stuffed them into her pocket.

“We’ll Levitate these three upstairs and outside,” Harry said, “then get Neville to Apparate back to Hogsmeade with Keesha and Turquoise, then Hermione can take care of business.” He glanced at the Death Eater; he had obviously heard everything. Harry chuckled. “Hermione’s had practice Obliviating sods like them.”

He stood and tested his legs; Umbridge’s Curse had made his knees feel like they had been ripped out, but they were better after a few steps. He cast Rennervating charms at Keesha and Turquoise and helped them stand. They both stared at Umbridge, but Turquoise looked away after a moment and started sobbing. Ginny patted her shoulder and took her by the arm. “We’ll go outside,” she said, “and get you back to Hogsmeade.”

Harry decided to take the Death Eater first; he wanted to say a few things to Dolores Umbridge in private, and knew he wouldn’t get that chance once she was upstairs. He Levitated the man and waved the others to go on ahead.

“What happened?” Keesha asked as they made their way into the hall. Harry shoved aside the Stunned Death Eater lying there; they could also come back for him later. He pointed at the open door to the empty storeroom. “Umbridge was waiting in there, and I was too stupid to think of it. How’s your leg?”

“It hurts, but I can walk.” She limped on ahead. Ginny was waiting at the bottom of the steps with Turquoise, who was still weeping, but now silently.

“Ginny,” Harry called as he walked behind the floating Death Eater, “what was that charm you used on my foot last summer? Maybe it’ll help Keesha.”

“Yes, your poor little foot had a tiny bruise and you couldn’t walk on it. Here.” She pointed her wand at Keesha’s ankle. “ _Livor est_.”

Keesha put her weight on the leg. “That’s better.” She jumped past Ginny and Turquoise and took the steps two at a time. They heard her crossing the room above and, a moment later, shouts.

“That’s Ron,” Ginny grinned. “I’ll bet Keesha went to find Neville.”

It wasn’t easy moving the stiff form of the Death Eater up the steps, but with a few bumps and scrapes that Harry didn’t try very hard to avoid, they got him into the demolished parlor. Harry put him on the floor and, while Ginny went looking for her brother and Hermione, went back for Umbridge.

She was lying on the floor as rigid as a board; he rolled her onto her back and her eyes bore into Harry with a degree of hatred he had never seen, not even from Tom Riddle. He contemplated the clot of blood that had been her nose, unconsciously rubbing the back of his left hand, and still feeling in his gut the echo of her Curse. Without realizing it, he pointed his wand at her.

“What were you after?” he mused aloud. “Not revenge, but ‘something else.’ What did you mean by ‘a piece of him?’ If you thought there was still a piece of Riddle’s soul inside me, then sorry to say you’ve gone to all this trouble for nothing. He took care of that himself; it’s gone, he’s gone. I don’t know what happened to his body, but his soul, if you want to call it that, is something even you would find repulsive.” He paused and thought for a moment. “Well, maybe not. I can see it being something you might actually find attractive.”

He leaned closer and fear entered her eyes; they crossed as they followed the tip of his wand until it was almost touching her demolished nose. Harry was breathing hard. “But you know what, Delores? I don’t care. I can’t begin to describe how much I detest you. But I want you to understand that it isn’t because of what you did to me. It’s because of what you made me do to Ginny. I’m not going to touch you this time, but if you ever, ever hurt her again, I will kill you, even if I have to follow you into Azkaban to do it.” His wand pressed against the bridge of her flat nose. “I will squash you like a toad trying to cross a motorway. Do you know what happens to toads that try to cross a Muggle road? A Muggle lorry comes along and, squish, it’s flatter than your ugly face.”

He stood. “Well, Professor, it’s been a pleasant conversation, but a little one-sided. I’ll deliver you to the Aurors now. Maybe you can teach the rats in your cell how to talk. You’ll have plenty of time, and then you can have a two-way conversation with your moral equals.”

He Levitated her, but as he was about to back her out the door, he heard footsteps clattering down the stairs.

“Harry!” came Ron’s voice. “Where are you?”

“Back here!”

A moment later Ron stood grinning in the doorway and Hermione pushed past him into the room.

“Put her down,” she said. Harry let the inert Umbridge fall, and Hermione knelt next to her. Umbridge’s eyes grew wide with fear again as Hermione knitted her brow and waved her wand over Umbridge’s face. _”Obliviate,”_ she muttered, and the eyes went blank.

Hermione stood. “There. I had to do it fast before the Aurors got to her; they’re here. I already did the other Death Eater.”

“How did you get down here?” Harry said. “Is the Fidelius gone?”

Ron was still grinning. “Pansy showed up. More accurately, she was escorted here about ten minutes ago. I don’t know the details, but they must have caught her and she must have told them. She just told us.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Hermione and I ducked inside while Saliyah was organizing the assault. I guess they’ll be down here soon.”

They heard many footsteps overhead and Ginny’s voice talking loudly. “She must be trying to keep them up there,” said Harry. “Let’s go.”

Ron and Hermione stepped aside and Harry raised Umbridge off the ground and floated her before him. As he was starting to climb the steps, the door above opened and Harry saw Sam Goldberg’s face and Ginny’s right behind.

“Ah, there you are, Harry,” said the Auror cheerfully. “I told them you would have things under control. May I give you a hand?”

Harry shot the body up the stairs. Goldberg ducked out of the way and it thudded headfirst into a ceiling beam that had been exposed when Harry blew the wall out. “Oops,” he said. “I lost control, sorry.”

“No problem,” the Auror grinned. “I have her. Hello, Professor,” he said as he lowered her to waist-level, “how are we doing today? There seems to be a problem with your nose.” He floated her out the large hole in the side of the house and clambered after.

“Yeah,” said Ron as they climbed the stairs, “what happened to her nose? It looks like someone bit it off.”

“Ginny has a nifty wand movement. She did it to Turquoise last fall, remember? Except, that was probably Umbridge too.” Harry put his arm around Ginny and lowered his voice. “We’ll tell you everything later. Where are Keesha and Neville?”

“Out back, I think,” Ginny said. “I’m pretty sure I heard the sounds of snogging.”

Everyone chuckled, but they all fell silent as Saliyah Ushujaa entered the room from the wrecked kitchen. She glanced at them and picked up a photograph lying on the floor and blew the dust off; the frame was cracked and the glass shattered, but the witch and wizard in it seemed intact, if a little shaken. She studied it for a moment and placed it on the rubble-covered couch.

“I think those are Turquoise’s foster parents,” she observed. “This was the house they lived in after they retired to Hogsmeade.” She looked around and out the hole in the wall. “I wonder if it’s reparable.”

She turned to go back into the kitchen, but stopped and looked at Harry. “I want a full report on my desk by four tomorrow afternoon. Mr. Weasley can give you his input, and I want both of you to sign it. Other than that you’ll have a normal day of classes.” She nodded and left.

“Oookaay,” said Ron. “Whatever you want.”

They walked out through the opening in the wall into a bright, sunny morning. The snow from Sunday’s storm had all melted, and it felt like warm weather was coming. Harry could now see that the house was in the middle of a large grove of hemlocks, with clear ground behind it rising about a mile to the farther hills.  He looked back at the house. The damage was severe on this side, and he supposed it was the same in the back.

“What did she expect me to do?” he said. “Aren’t Aurors supposed to rescue people in danger?”

“I don’t think she’s angry,” Ginny said. “A little formal, maybe, but not really mad.”

“I agree,” said Hermione. “What she asked you to do is what she would ask any Auror. That’s a good sign, Harry. You had a good reason not to tell her what you were doing. You didn’t know what Umbridge would do to Keesha if a lot of Aurors showed up.”

“If she is angry, she won’t show it now,” Harry answered. “I suspect I’ll get a lecture tomorrow after she cools down. And what about you?” He looked at Ginny with concern. “Shouldn’t you be getting back to school? I hate to think what Filch is going to do.”

“Filch _him_!” Ginny scowled, but her face softened and she made eyes at Harry. “I’m not going back tonight. I’m already in hot water, so what does it matter if I stay out another night?”

Harry perked up at this announcement. “We do have a lot to talk about, don’t we? What time is it? Why don’t we all go back to the inn? Ron and I can work on that report, and we can talk.”

They heard someone call to them and looked around. Neville and Keesha walked towards them from the front of the house; Neville’s arm was around her shoulders and both of them were smiling; Keesha had a slight limp.

“We were looking for you,” Keesha said. “Is everyone okay? We’re going back to Hogsmeade, my folks don’t know yet. Saliyah told me that they didn’t have time to talk to them.”

“How’s the leg?” Ginny said.

“Still a little sore, but it’s fine. You have a nice touch, Gin.”

“I practiced on Harry last summer. He didn’t realize he was part of a medical experiment.”

Everyone laughed; Keesha and Neville walked a few yards away and Disapparated with a single pop.

Harry glanced around. “Where is Turquoise? And what about the SOB upstairs **?** We left one in a room up there, and he was not in very good shape.”

Three Aurors were standing at the corner of the house. Harry walked over and they nodded to him. “Did you find a Death Eater upstairs?” he asked. “He was hurt pretty badly. There’s also one in the cellar, but he’s only Stunned.”

They looked at each other for an instant, and all three ran to the front door. Ginny, Ron, and Hermione joined Harry and they followed the Aurors to the open door; they heard footsteps charging up the stairs. A minute later a body floated out, followed by two of the Aurors.

“What happened to him?” one asked. “He lost a lot of blood; how many of you did this to him? We’ll have to get him to St. Mungo’s right away.”

“He used a Killing Curse,” Harry said evenly. “I wasn’t about to take a chance on another one.”

She looked at him dubiously. “You did this by yourself? There must be two dozen spell burns up there.”

“Those are all mine.”

The witch appraised him. “That’s interesting,” she finally said. “I would have the same reaction.”

The third Auror appeared at the door with Saliyah. She took one look at the Death Eater and pointed to his two escorts. “St. Mungo’s,” she said, “now.” The Aurors clasped hands and one took the elbow of the body floating in the air. With a loud crack, they were gone.

Saliyah turned to Harry. “That’s all of them, including one in the back yard and one in the cellar?”

“Yes.”

“Then why don’t you all go home. We’ll be going over the house with a fine-tooth comb for the rest of the day, and if I have any questions, I’ll stop by The Hog’s Head later. In fact,” she thought for a moment, “I’d like the four of you to come down to the Ministry on Saturday morning, say ten o’clock. Can you do that?” They all nodded. The two Aurors went back inside.

“Let’s go,” said Harry. “I’m ready for lunch.”

Ron’s face lit up. “Did someone say lunch?”


	46. Seventh-Year Syndrome

They Apparated under the elm tree behind the inn, wearily climbed the steps to the flat, and collapsed into chairs and the love seat; no one spoke for several minutes until Ron stood.

“What’s to eat?” he said. “Is there anything up here?”

Harry waved at the little kitchen. He was sprawled in the love seat under Ginny who had fallen on top of him and seemed to be asleep. “There might be something, go take a look. Or wait a bit and I’ll go talk to Winky. If you’re desperate there’s owl treats in the sack next to the perch.”

“Don’t tempt me,” said Ron. He opened the kitchen door and let out a yelp. “She knows we’re here!” Harry heard cabinets opening and dishes clinking. In a moment Ron was back holding a plate with two sandwiches on it and a third in his other hand; half of it was already in his mouth.

“‘Mione!” Ron nudged her. She was slumped over in a chair, snoring lightly. Her head swayed as she looked up. “Food, babe,” Ron said. “The house-elf came through again.”

“Oh.” She smiled sleepily, curled up in the chair, and started snoring again. Ron pulled his chair over to the table and ate.

Harry patted Ginny’s back. “Wha?” she mumbled.

“Love, I need to get up. There’s food in the kitchen.”

Ginny sighed. “That’s a shame. This is very comfortable.”

“I’ll be right back.” He slipped from under her, rearranged her on the love seat, and went to the kitchen; he came back with two plates and two sandwiches. He pulled Ginny up and sat, but she fell right back onto his lap and closed her eyes.

“Don’t wake me up again until you’re ready to go to bed,” she said.

Harry wasn’t sure what that meant, but he couldn’t ask because she was already asleep. He finished his sandwich, peered at Ginny’s, shrugged, and ate it too. He belched, leaned his head back, and closed his eyes.

He didn’t know how long he had dozed when a loud knock on the door awoke him. “‘Arry!” came Stan’s voice. “Are you in there?”

Harry’s head felt like it was full of cotton. “Who? Hold on a sec.”

He moved Ginny’s head, which was still in his lap, and pulled himself up, then staggered to the door and opened it. Stan looked at him wide-eyed.

“Are you okay? Were you out all night? There’s a mob of people downstairs. They’re saying you caught Turquoise Southeby.”

Harry held onto the jamb and blinked, trying to keep his eyes open. “What time is it?”

“Around eleven. ‘Arry, can you come down? Everyone’s asking for you.”

Harry was exhausted, they all were, from too little sleep and too much tension. He looked back into the room; Ron had put his head down on the table and Hermione was in her chair; both were asleep. Ginny, he knew, was asleep on the love seat.

“Okay,” he said, “give me ten minutes. I’m filthy.”

Stan left and Harry went into the bedroom. He started to change into clean clothes, but stopped. It suddenly hit him that he had just fulfilled a promise he had made to himself four months ago, the day after Ginny had come back to him. He had vowed that he would destroy the people who had made him hurt her, and now he had done it. He didn’t care if he or even Ginny was in trouble. He had taken matters into his own hands and he had won.

The world could wait.

He called out, “Winky! I need you!” The next instant the elf was standing in front of him, a wide smile on her face; she bowed.

“Harry Potter! Winky is happy to see you! There will be no more evil people doing evil things to Harry and Ginny Pott— Ginny Weasley, and their friends.”

Harry grinned. “I hope not. But tell me, who is waiting downstairs? Is there anyone, you know, important?’

“Ah.” She furrowed her brow. “Harry Potter is meaning someone important to him.”

Harry’s grin didn’t leave his face. “Right. The hell with everyone else.”

“Yes, yes, Winky agrees.” She put her finger to her cheek and thought. “Mr. Rubeus Hagrid is downstairs; he is drinking mead. Mr. George Weasley is there; he is drinking firewhiskey.” She paused for a moment. “There is no one else.”

“Is Kingsley Shacklebolt there?”

She shrugged. “Yes, but Winky thought Harry Potter is meaning only important people.”

Harry laughed. “Thanks, Winky. Please tell Hagrid and George that we’ll be down in about an hour—no, make that two hours. Tell them that we’re very tired and have to clean up.” Winky bowed and vanished.

Harry went back into the parlor and bent over Ginny as she lay on the love seat. He watched her for a moment, marveling at her peacefulness. He knelt next to her, caressing her brow and her cheeks.

“Darling,” he whispered, “wake up. We have to go downstairs.” He shook her shoulder gently and she opened her eyes.

“Harry,” she smiled. “Is it time to go to bed?”

He chuckled. “Unfortunately no. There’s people downstairs that we have to talk to. George, Hagrid, I don’t know who else. Your parents aren’t there, but they’re probably worried.”

Ginny pushed herself up to a sitting position, yawned and stretched. “What time is it?”

“Eleven. Stan was here, and so was Winky. I thought we could clean up first.”

“What about Ron and Hermione?” Ginny looked at the two immobile forms.

“Let them sleep. They don’t need to answer to anyone. Winky put sandwiches in the kitchen. Do you want one?”

Ginny stood and stretched again, and put her arms around him. “Why are you talking about food?” she said silkily. “We just fixed about every problem in the world, and I think congratulations are in order.”

She couldn’t say any more as Harry kissed her, swept her in his arms and carried her into the bedroom. He sealed the door and began taking off her clothes. He was in the process of kissing everything that was exposed by the removal of each article, when she stopped him and pulled him up.

“Maybe we should take a shower. We’re wearing what we slept in, or at least you are and I was.”

“No objections from me,” Harry said in a somewhat thick voice. Soon they were under the shower, soaping each other down, making sure absolutely everything was nice and clean, and pausing often to press themselves together in long snogs. They dried each other off and Harry led her back into the bedroom, pausing at the door to listened for a moment. “They’re still asleep,” he whispered.

Ginny was already in bed with the covers pulled up to her chin; Harry could see only her smiling eyes.

“This feels so nice!” she purred. “I’m never going to sleep outside again.” She lifted the covers and beckoned. “Come here, I want to hold my hero.”

Harry came to Ginny. They needed each other, they needed release from tension and fear. But now, as they made love, more than the fear was gone. Today and tonight and forever they could sleep in peace or walk down open roads and not have to look over their shoulders for danger creeping after them. A huge vista opened up before them, a view of their own lives stretching on forever. They didn’t think those thoughts consciously, but when they made love, urgently, their passion was fed by the sense that they were now free.

They finally slept, lying in each other’s arms so that as much skin as possible was touching.

When they were awakened by a knock on the door and both of them raised their heads, they could see from the light coming in the window next to the bed that it was at least the middle of the afternoon.

“Oh, crap,” Harry muttered and jumped out of bed. “I told Winky I would be downstairs in two hours.”

Ginny peeked out from the covers. “Do you want me to come?”

Harry considered. “Not unless you want to, but Hagrid might be looking for you.”

“I don’t want to go,” Ginny pouted. “It’s too comfy here. Tell Hagrid I’m too tired. That’s at least a half-truth.”

Harry came over to the bed; he sat down on the edge and ran his fingers through her hair. “I’ll tell him. And I won’t stay long.” He leaned down and kissed her, finished dressing and left. Ginny turned onto her side and instantly fell asleep.

Ron and Hermione were standing next to the love seat, watching the bedroom door when Harry came out. They both looked tired.

“Stan came back up,” Ron said. “We’ve kept a few people cooling their heels downstairs, among them the Minister for Magic. Stan said he was not pleased when he left. There’s also a mob of reporters, but Stan and George have been keeping them out.” He chuckled. “One of them tried to sneak in the back but apparently Winky got him with a ladle.”

Harry smiled at the image of an angry Winky chasing a reporter across the field in back, heaving her ladles at him. “When did you wake up?”

“About ten minutes ago,” Hermione yawned. “We moved into your love seat about two hours ago; it’s a lot more comfortable than chairs.”

“And a lot less comfortable than a bed,” Ron said dryly. “Where’s Ginny?”

“Still asleep. Why don’t you go home and get some sleep yourselves? We have to be in class tomorrow morning.”

“We also have to write that report, mate, remember?”

Harry groaned. “No, I forgot. Damn!” He sighed and furrowed his brow. “Let’s think about this. The last thing I want to do today is write a bloody report for Saliyah. We have to talk to at least some of the people downstairs. One of them is Hagrid, and he’s probably here because McGonagall sent him to haul Ginny’s butt back to school, but she’s not going, so we have to figure out some way to convince Hagrid. And then there are those reporters. We have to decide what to tell them.”

“The truth,” Hermione said. “It’s all bound to come out eventually, and the last thing you want is for some snoop reporter to catch you in a lie. If you lie to any of them it’ll come back to haunt you.”

“Okay,” Harry sighed. “But what about the Obliviate you used? We can’t tell them about that.”

“No, and I’ve been thinking about it. We shouldn’t tell the press, but we have to tell Saliyah; you have to put it in your report. The Aurors will know all about it once they finish at the house and when they interrogate Umbridge and that Death Eater. We have to come up with a rationale for it.” She looked at both Harry and Ron, and folded her arms across her chest. “Does anyone besides me have any ideas?”

Harry and Ron looked at each other and shrugged at the same time. “We’re counting on you, hon,” Ron said.

“I thought so.” She tapped her foot on the floor.

The silence extended. “Well,” said Harry, “we could, um, we could say, um . . .” He looked blankly at Hermione. “I don’t know. Do you actually have an idea?”

“I have one,” Ron said, a little smugly. “Don’t put it in the report, but tell Saliyah the truth. I’ll bet she agrees with what you did, and I’ll bet she also agrees that it should be a secret. She’ll probably tell Shacklebolt, but, hell, if we can’t trust them, who can we trust? ”

Harry shook his head, “I don’t like it. It would mean that two more people know that Ginny is the master, er, mistress of the Wand.”

“I see your point,” said Hermione, “but I think Ron is right. They’re going to ask about it and the only alternative is to make up a story. But since there are four of us, eventually they’ll find an inconsistency; someone is bound to tell it differently.”

Harry scowled; he looked back at the bedroom door and thought about Ginny lying peacefully in their bed, and the mortal danger she would be in if the story of the Elder Wand became known. But Hermione was right. There was no way to keep it a complete secret, which meant that it would be better to control the truth than to disseminate a lie. Besides, he had to trust Kingsley and Saliyah, so the risk, hopefully, was minimal.

And there was something else, something he had not had time to think about and which he had not yet mentioned to anyone. Somehow, Umbridge knew about the Elder Wand—or at least that Harry’s phoenix wand now had special powers—and she also knew about the Horcrux that Harry had unknowingly carried all those years. His hand went to his scar—something it rarely did anymore—and when he glanced at Ron and Hermione, they were staring at him.

Hermione’s eyes grew wide. “What is it, Harry?”

“Nothing. I have another question about Umbridge, that’s all. I’ll tell you when Ginny wakes up; I want her to know too. And I don’t want to decide what we say about the Elder Wand until she’s up; she’s the one most affected.”

Hermione sighed and shook her head. “We have to decide. We can’t stay up here all day, and you have to write that report; it’s getting late.”

“Yes,” said Harry, “we need to write that report.” He cocked his head at Hermione, and this time her eyes narrowed.

“Now just a minute, Harry.” She pointed her finger at him. “I am not writing your report for you. It’s your _job_ , for Merlin’s sake.”

“I know, I know, and if this was a normal event I would happily do it, and so would Ron, right?” He looked at his best mate.

Ron nodded enthusiastically. “Sure we would, but think about it, babe, you were just as involved in it as I was, and after all, who’s the best writer in the room? Hell, who’s the best writer in Hogsmeade, in the whole country?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “You’re reaching, Ronald. And don’t ‘babe’ me. It’s your responsibility. Besides, you need the practice.” She folded her arms again and gazed at him smugly.

Ron came and held her arms. “Sweetie, don’t be angry. Listen, how about if Harry and I tell you what to write, and you write it?” He glanced at Harry, who nodded. “You are so good at things like that, you’re the best.”

Hermione turned her head away, and when she looked back she had a little smile on her face. “I’ll do it if you agree to buy those drapes we saw at Grace Brothers, the blue ones.”

“Oh.” Ron swallowed, suddenly sober. “Do you mean . . .”

“Yes, the ones with the little flowers. And also the matching couch, and the round coffee table, and the—”

“Now wait a minute! You’re getting into blackmail here. The drapes and the couch, that’s it.”

Hermione smiled at him but said nothing.

Ron looked at Harry, who shrugged. “It’s your flat, mate. The drapes sound nice, though.”

“Fine,” Ron grumbled, “the drapes, the couch, and the coffee table.”

“Good!” said Hermione; she gave him a big kiss and turned to Harry. “Do you have parchment?”

“It’s in the bedroom. But why don’t we go downstairs first? It is getting late.”

Harry checked Ginny before they left; she was on her side, sleeping soundly with a peaceful smile on her face, her tousled hair spread on the pillow. Harry bent over her; he could barely resist the urge to get back into bed and wake her up the way she liked. But he heard Ron talking loudly to Hermione—deliberately, Harry was sure—and reluctantly turned away. It wasn’t evening yet, and there was plenty of time; all he had to do was keep thoughts of her lovely—

He stopped himself from thinking those thoughts and, in the parlor, found Ron and Hermione waiting by the door to the stairs. They went down; Winky was alone in the kitchen, standing on a stool in front of the stove stirring a cauldron from which emanated a delightful smell. She looked around and smiled.

“Welcome back, Harry Potter and his friends! Here is a delicious chowder that Winky has made. Does they wants some?” She looked directly at Ron, but Hermione pulled him away when he tried to stop. He grabbed a dinner roll from a tray as he passed and stuffed it into his mouth.

Harry, with his hand on the door to the dining room, heard voices on the other side, many more than was usual for a Thursday afternoon. He looked at his two friends. “Not a word about the Wand or the Obliviate.” They nodded and Harry pushed the door open.

The dining room was packed with Aurors, Tony Trostle and his entire crew, other villagers, reporters with their quills and parchments, photographers, and Hagrid. He was sitting at a table right in front of Harry with his back to him. Harry walked to the bar where Stan was busily pouring drinks. He looked up when Harry tapped his knuckles on the counter.

“Couple of hours?” he said with eyebrows raised. “‘Ow are you doing, ‘Arry? Ready to face the mob?”

Two reporters sitting at the bar spun around. “Mr. Potter!” said one, “do you have anything to say? Were you the one who rescued the Minister’s niece? Is it true that Dolores Umbridge is dead?”

Harry glanced at Ron and Hermione, who were staring dead-pan at the reporter. “I hadn’t heard that,” Harry said. “Is that what they’re saying?”

Before the man could respond, the floor shook and Hagrid loomed over everyone. He gently but firmly pushed the two reporters aside, and they crashed into the half-dozen others who had quickly gathered around. The whole crowd went sprawling as butterbeer, mead, and firewhiskey splattered everywhere.

“Harry,” said Hagrid, shaking mead off his huge hand, sending another shower of liquid over the pile of reporters, “where have yeh been? I’ve been waitin’ on yeh fer hours. An’ where’s Ginny? Is she okay?”

“She’s fine.” Harry took a bar towel from Stan and wiped his face. “She’s pretty tired though. But let’s not talk here.” The reporters and photographers were untangling themselves and some were listening and had started taking notes. Hagrid sent them a scowl and they backed away.

Harry climbed onto a chair and raised his hands. The room gradually grew quiet and soon everyone was looking at him; the reporters moved into a semi-circle directly in front of the chair, and flashbulbs went off as the photographers snapped pictures of Hagrid, Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

“Thanks for coming,” Harry said while quills scribbled and cameras clicked. “We can’t tell you anything until we turn in our official report to the Ministry. The main thing is that Keesha Baker is safe.”

He started to jump down, but the reporters surged in, shouting questions, jostling each other and Harry’s chair. It was about to topple over with Harry on it when he suddenly floated towards the ceiling and up over the heads of the gaping newspaper people, before landing gently at the table where Hagrid had been sitting. Hermione grinned and put away her wand.

The reporters swarmed after Harry, but Hagrid put his massive bulk in the way. “Okay, folks,” he boomed, “that’s it. Harry told yeh he couldn’t say no more. I think yeh all have yer deadlines to make, so finish yer drinks and pack up. Let’s go.”

He started waving his arms and shepherding them towards the door. They backed up, some of them protesting, but Tony, Carlos, and the rest of his burly workers stood and helped move them along, glowering to make sure the reporters got the message. When they were all outside, Tony closed the door and stood with his back to it, his arms folded across his chest, his eyes twinkling.

“We should have taken _him_ to the house,” Ron muttered.

Harry grinned and waved to Tony. “Thanks, mate. The next round is on me.” Tony gave him the thumbs up.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat, and Hagrid pulled two chairs together and carefully set himself down. “Ginny really is tired,” Harry said. “Can it wait?”

Hagrid frowned. “I suppose, an’ Merlin knows she deserves it, after what I heard you lot did. Is it true yeh found Umbridge?”

“Yes. She was disguised as Turquoise Southeby. The real Turquoise was also a prisoner.” Harry looked at Hermione. “I still don’t know what happened to her.”

“One of the Aurors took her to St. Mungo’s,” Hermione replied. “That’s all I know.”

“Harry,” Hagrid said, “yeh oughta know that Perfessor McGonagall is pretty upset at Ginny, and you too.”

Harry sighed. “I figured she would be. I guess Ginny’ll get a bunch of detentions.”

“Maybe not, if yeh can come up with a good enough reason for why she was with yeh.”

“There _is_ one. Pansy Parkinson was the Secret-Keeper and she revealed the Secret to both of us. If it wasn’t for Ginny, I might not have made it out of there.”

“What about Mum and Dad?” Ron said. “McGonagall must have told them that she was gone.”

“George took care of that,” Hagrid said. “Yer dad showed up here aroun’ two in the mornin’ and George told him that she had gone off with Harry. I guess that satisfied him, ‘cause he went home and didn’t come back.”

Harry looked around. “Where is George? Wasn’t he here earlier?”

“Yeah, but he didn’t stay after yeh didn’t show up this mornin’. An’ neither did the Minister for Magic.” He gave Harry a stern look. “Yer about the only wizard in the kingdom could of stood him up and got away with it.”

“Well . . .” Harry looked at the others. “I guess there’s nothing else to do here. Let’s—”

Hagrid raised a massive paw. “Before yeh leave, Harry, Perfessor McGonagall wanted me to find out when Ginny’s comin’ back. Hogwarts is still sealed.” He leaned forward with a tiny smile showing through his bushy beard. “She’s mad as a hungry Skrewt, like I said, but she’s also wonderin’ how Ginny got out of the castle. Breach of security and all that.” He winked at Harry and stood. “So, should I tell her that Ginny’s comin’ back tonight?”

Harry turned a little red. “Um, no. She’ll be back tomorrow morning.” He peered up at Hagrid. “And how did you get out, now that you mention it?”

“Perfessor Flitwick’s the one who set the seals up, an’ he let me out. But now that I’m thinkin’ on it, what’s the point of keepin’ them? All the bad guys are back in jail, ain’t they? Well,” he reached down to the table and polished off the tankard of mead he had been drinking, “yeh all had a pretty good day, I’d say, so I don’t blame yeh fer takin’ a little time off. I just didn’ want Ginny to be surprised when she went back.”

He slapped the empty tankard on the table and turned to leave, but stopped. “Oh, Harry, I almost fergot. Tell Ginny that the twins got names all picked out fer the owlets. They told Bailey an’ she appears to be approvin’.”

He waved again. Tony moved aside, and when he opened the door for Hagrid, two reporters whose ears had been pressed against it fell through and stumbled to the floor. When they saw Hagrid striding towards them they scuttled back outside on their hands and knees. Tony closed the door behind Hagrid, but everyone inside heard his booming voice, “Gennelmen, ladies, yeh all need to be leavin’ folks alone who’ve just made the wizardin’ world a safer place for you an’ yer kids. Now go on, go home!”

Stan came and peered out a window. “They’re all still there,” he called to Harry.

“Let’s go back upstairs,” Harry said. “We can finish the report, at least.”

They went up, and Harry checked on Ginny. She was still asleep but the comforter had slipped off her shoulder. When he pulled it up she stirred and opened her eyes. “Hi, Harry,” she smiled, “what time is it?”

Harry sat next to her on the bed and ran his hand over her forehead and hair. “Late afternoon. We talked to Hagrid downstairs. McGonagall sent him to find out what you were up to. He wanted to know if you were going back tonight.”

“I don’t think so, unless you want me to.” She batted her eyes at him.

Harry leaned down and kissed her. “Stay here forever and I’ll bring you breakfast every morning and love every night.”

Ginny laughed and reached up to hug him. “My sweetie! I accept.”

Harry started to put his hand under the covers, knowing that she had not put on any nightclothes, but pulled his hand out and sighed. “Ron and Hermione are still here; we’re going to write up the report. Do you want me to get you anything first?”

Ginny shook her head and stretched, causing the covers to slip down to her waist. Harry sucked in his breath at the sight of what that did to her breasts, and Ginny hurriedly pulled the bedclothes up to her chin. “You’re pathetic,” she laughed. “Go away! I’ll be out in a minute.”

Harry went to his dresser, took out writing materials from the top drawer, and went back to the parlor. Hermione and Ron had pulled the magical table into the middle of the room and were reviewing the events of the past two days.

“Just talk,” Hermione said to Harry. “Start with Pansy.” She took parchment and a quill from Harry, and as he recounted what had happened when Pansy walked into the inn, she wrote.

Ten minutes later Ginny appeared, wearing a robe over a nightgown and brushing her hair. Harry was describing how Pansy had offered to tell the Secret to Ginny.

“Just say that you went and got me,” Ginny said. “Don’t say anything about Hagrid or George.”

Harry nodded and continued; Ginny went into the little kitchen and came out with a tray full of broiled chicken legs and a pitcher of pumpkin juice. “This was on the table,” she announced.

They worked for two more hours. Ron and Hermione didn’t know much about what had happened inside the house, and they stopped Harry often to ask questions or make comments. After they were done they had an animated discussion about Turquoise Southeby.

“So who shagged Pester?” Ron asked. “Can you Imperius someone to do that? Or was it Umbridge Polyjuiced to look like Turquoise?”

Hermione wrinkled her nose. “I think you can force someone to do it, but the answer depends on when they locked Turquoise up. Once they did that and started starving her, I don’t think even Morequest Pester would have touched her.”

“So do you think she was Imperiused _and_ Umbridge was disguised as her?” Harry asked. “That’s what I think.”

“Yes,” Hermione agreed, “it’s pretty obvious. When they began to vandalize the inn, Umbridge made sure that the real Turquoise had an alibi for her whereabouts, and she must have been lightly Imperiused at least. But I think it was Umbridge who slept with Pester. That was probably a very important part of her plot to get you, Harry, so she wouldn’t want to risk messing it up by forcing Turquoise to do it.” She shook her head. “That is truly disgusting.”

“But when did Turquoise join them?” Harry asked. “Or didn’t she? Was she always either a prisoner or under an Imperio? The first few times I saw her, she was _not_ Imperiused, but she was already dressing and acting like a whore, so that must have been Umbridge.”

“But didn’t Saliyah tell you that she was always like that, at least a little?” Ron said. “I’ll bet Umbridge saw how she was acting and dressing and figured that she could use her for her own devious ends.”

“But Umbridge must have seen that it wouldn’t work!” Harry exclaimed. “It just made me angry, especially when she came on when Ginny was around.” He looked ruefully at Ginny. “At least until I started drinking Turntongue.”

“That was not you, Harry,” Ginny said. “Don’t say that.”

“Well . . . Turquoise still must have known that I didn’t like her.”

“Yes,” said Hermione, “but did Umbridge? She wouldn’t have cared. In her twisted way, she must have thought that she, er, Turquoise, could come between you and Ginny.”

“Ah!” Ginny had been leaning against Harry, but now she sat up with a triumphant gleam in her eye. “That’s why I wanted to hex her every time I saw her. Not because she was a hussy trying to seduce Harry, but because it was Umbridge in disguise.”

Hermione nodded. “I think that’s right, Ginny. The first time, when Harry interviewed her for the job here, it was the real Turquoise, but after that, every time she was dressed seductively, it was Umbridge.”

After a silent moment, Harry spoke. “Then I know when they locked her up. It was right after our Christmas party. Remember, Gin? She was standing out back near the tree, just staring up at the inn. I’ll bet she wasn’t under the Imperio, and she was feeling sorry for everything. But she was scared of Umbridge, because she ran when she saw us. That second person put another Curse on her and took her back to the house.”

“If you’re right,” said Ron, “she was locked up for three whole months.”

Hermione started writing again. After a few minutes she put down her quill and handed the parchment to Harry. “Here it is. All you have to do is copy it. Now,” she turned to Ron, “when do I get my drapes?”

Ron and Hermione decided to Floo back to Diagon Alley after they had finished eating the chicken. They all agreed that it had been a great twenty-four hours, well worth the long hard night they had spent outside the house. The four friends parted; Harry took the remains of dinner down to the kitchen and returned to find Ginny in the love seat. She had started a fire and the flames were crackling and dancing merrily.

He heaved a sigh as he sat and she curled up in his lap. “I think it’s finally all over,” Harry said. “We can relax, finish out the term, you can try out for the Harpies, and we’ll get married and live happily ever after.”

“I love stories like that.” She pulled his shirt bottom out of his jeans and rubbed her hands on his stomach and chest, leaning her head against him. “I really don’t want to go back to school. I’m not even all that excited about the Quidditch team anymore. I mean, I want to play and I want us to win the Cup, but mostly I want to get on with . . . other things.”

Harry started combing her hair with his fingers. “They call it Seventh-Year Syndrome.”

“I know,” she sighed. “Did Hagrid say anything about what McGonagall will do when I go back? Was he angry or upset?”

“Hagrid? No. In fact, he kind of hinted that he understood why you would want to stay here tonight. McGonagall is angry at both of us, though.”

“Hmm.” She ran her finger over his lips and kissed them. “Well, I don’t care.”

The conversation petered out; Harry had untied the sash of her robe, and was now pulling her nightgown up while Ginny fumbled with his belt and zipper. She had to stop when Harry pulled the nightgown, which was tangled in her robe, over her head; he left it there, covering her face and conveniently trapping her arms above her head. Everything from the neck down being available, he started playing.

“Hey!” came Ginny’s voice, muffled by the robe and nightgown. “Let me out.”

Harry ignored her pleas and soon was kissing and caressing his favorite places; Ginny stopped objecting and started making little squeaking sounds from inside the tangle of clothes. After several minutes she put her hands—joined through the inside-out sleeves of her garments—over Harry’s head and yanked him towards her. They tumbled off the love seat onto the red rug and rolled giggling until Harry ended on top.

Ginny had pulled the clothes off of her face and smiled up at him and Harry looked down at her delicious breasts. “I have been thinking about these for hours,” he said huskily. “I want them.”

He began kissing, and Ginny closed her eyes. She finally extricated her hands and threw the nightgown and robe across the room. She put her hands in his hair, clutching tufts of it and moving his head to other places. After a long time she rolled him over; in a moment Harry’s clothes were scattered here and there like hers.

She returned the favors that Harry had done for her, and soon he was gasping and writhing on the rug. “Oh, Merlin,” he moaned. “Please, don’t go back to school, ever.”

Ginny giggled, did a few more things to bring Harry to the boiling point, and climbed aboard; for a time, heaven was in the Hog’s Head Inn.

Afterwards, they lay side by side on the rug; Ginny rested her head in the crook of Harry’s arm with her hand on his chest. “That was special,” she murmured. “Do you remember the day of my birthday party, after you showed me your eyes in the locket?”

“Who could forget that?” Harry ran the back of his fingers over and around her navel. “Was this like that for you?”

“Mmm. It just took me over. I was someplace else, not here, but with you. And I wasn’t just me, I was both of us.” She giggled. “That sounds silly.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Harry shifted so that he was on his side, pressed against her. He took her chin and turned her face to him. “I feel like that a lot. Do you know something, Ginny? If I had to walk into the Forest again, and I knew that I was going to die, I wouldn’t need the Resurrection Stone because I would be both of us, I would not be alone. It’s not that I think I can’t die; I know that’s not true, I’ve done it already.” He chuckled. “But I know that even if I died, I would not be alone when it happened. I’m never alone anymore.”

Ginny pulled him on top of her. “Harry,” she whispered, “how is it possible to love someone as much as I love you?” She took his face in her hands and kissed him as again their bodies, their selves, joined.

# # # #

They awoke early the next morning in bed, where they had somehow ended up after falling asleep on the rug under a comforter that Harry had Summoned from the bedroom. Ginny vaguely remembered waking him up and telling him she wanted to sleep in the bed, but Harry had no recollection of anything except the unending pleasure of Ginny.

Neither of them wanted to get out of bed, but finally Ginny staggered into the bathroom while Harry stumbled into the little kitchen and started brewing a fresh pot of coffee.

On his way back to the bedroom he saw Hermione’s parchment on the table and swore; he had forgotten to copy it over. He ran his hand through his hair, trying to think. He had to have it done by four that afternoon, but had two classes and a lab in the morning and his regular meeting with Saliyah right after lunch. He would have to do it during classes, which would be a struggle; he didn’t even know if he could stay awake after last night’s “celebrations” well into the morning hours.

He thought about asking Ginny to get his breakfast while he copied, but knew that she wanted to start back to Hogwarts as soon as possible, since she had no idea how she was actually going to get in. Their plan, such as it was, was for her to go to the front gate with Kreacher, and if it was closed, to Apparate in with him to the front steps. There was no point in trying to hide; everyone knew she was absent, so sneaking in would just make matters worse.

He went into the bathroom; Ginny was showering, and he poked his head through the curtain; she was rinsing herself off. “Guess what. I forgot to copy my report, and I won’t have any free time before it’s due.”

“Why don’t you just turn it in as is?”

“Because it’s in Hermione’s handwriting. Saliyah will know it wasn’t me.”

She stepped out. “Use a charm to dry me off, will you, love?” Harry got his wand, and in a moment Ginny was dry and covered with goose bumps, which Harry found very fetching. Combing her hair, she looked in the mirror at Harry’s reflection as he was getting in the shower. “Well, why does that matter? She copied from your dictation, she didn’t make it up.”

“Do you think Saliyah will mind?” Harry said over the sound of the water. “She might be mad at me to begin with, so I don’t want to make it any worse.”

“Harry, you rescued the Minister’s niece, and you captured five murderers. How can she be angry?”

“Because she can be. I’ve seen it.”

“You worry too much sometimes.”

Harry didn’t answer. When he finished showering and dressing, Ginny was in the little kitchen putting breakfast on the table.

“What makes you think I worry too much?” he asked as they ate.

Ginny spread a huge pat of butter on a sticky bun, closed her eyes, and smiled beatifically as she bit in. “Winky makes the best buns. I can’t think of a better send-off after last night.”

“Blimey, I’m as good as a sticky bun.”

“See? You have no self-confidence.” Ginny laughed, but became serious. “Tell me why Saliyah will be angry.”

“I did what I always do. I went off on my own to rescue someone.”

“You did not go off on your own. You had four experienced duelers with you. The only thing she can possibly fault you for is that you didn’t tell her. But you had to act fast, before Umbridge discovered that Pansy was running away, and once we got there you had to be careful not to alarm them.”

“Yes, but—”

“Harry, you succeeded. Keesha is back with her family.”

Harry sighed. “Okay, I’ll just turn in the report.”

“Good.” Ginny pushed back from the table. “I have to get going. I don’t want this to be any worse than it has to be.”

They cleaned up the kitchen, but before they walked out the front door Harry took Ginny and held her tightly. He looked down at her beautiful face and felt a lump in his throat.

“I’m going to miss you today. I really hope they don’t give you detention tonight or tomorrow because all I want to do is be with you. I guess that’s selfish.”

“Well why do you think _I_ don’t want detention?” She poked the end of his nose with her finger. “I certainly don’t plan on holing up in the library all weekend catching up on Ancient Runes.”

“Send me an owl as soon as anything happens. Even if I’m in the middle of a class, I want to know.”

They had one last snog and went downstairs. Winky and Kreacher were in the kitchen preparing for the breakfast crowd; the inn was due to open in a few minutes. Kreacher climbed carefully down from his stool and bowed. “Does Ginny Weasley wish Kreacher to accompany her to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?”

“I hope it’s okay,” Ginny said. “I don’t want to put you out.”

“Kreacher lives to serve.” He bowed again.

Harry was at the dining room door, a frown on his face. He had heard two voices, where no one but Stan should be. He glanced at Ginny and she followed him.

Tony stood at the bar with a glass of firewhiskey in his hand; Stan was leaning back against the cabinets. Tony looked grim and Stan seemed to be in shock. Harry walked slowly over, holding his breath. He looked from one to the other. “What’s wrong?” he said hesitantly.

Tony threw down the rest of his drink, put down the empty glass, and looked at Harry and Ginny. “I might as well give you the good news first. The school is open again; Professor McGonagall sent an owl to Ros half an hour ago. You’ll be able to walk through the gates,” he said to Ginny.

“That’s good,” she said. “Tony, what’s the bad news?”

He pointed to his glass and Stan refilled it. “There was a shallow grave outside that house.” He drank the whole glass and slammed it on the counter. His face started to break up and his voice faltered. “They—they found Miguel and Paolo.”

Harry and Ginny stood in stunned silence. All the energy seemed to go out of Tony and he slumped against the bar. Stan reached out to steady him, and Harry put his hand on his back. Harry had never seen him like this; Tony was always vibrant and full of energy, especially when confronted with evil that had to be fought. He had never backed away from the Dark Marks or the other attacks on the inn; he had always made it clear that he would help Harry fight. Now, he looked beaten.

Harry looked at Stan. “Those were the two who disappeared?”

Stan nodded. “Sam Goldberg came in a few minutes ago with Tony. ‘e said it was Killing Curses, just like they used on the blokes you wounded in the lane. ‘Arry, I never thought I would say something like this, but they need to give those bastards to the dementors.”

Harry still had his hand on Tony’s back; he could feel the contractor shaking. “Tony, I’m sorry. Stay here as long as you want.” He squeezed his shoulder. “Ginny has to get back to school,” he said to Stan. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

They left after he told Kreacher that the elf would not be needed, and walked with their arms around each other, not speaking until they reached the tall pillars at the entrance to Hogwarts.

Ginny turned to Harry and put her hands on his chest. “I’ll be fine, love. Go back; I don’t want you to be late for work.”

Harry could only nod and stroke her cheek. Ginny stood on her toes and quickly kissed him. He watched as she hurried through the gates and up the curving drive; when he could no longer see her, he turned and walked slowly back to the inn.

# # # #

Ron and Harry were besieged the minute they each walked into the training program’s common room. Several people brandished copies of the _Daily Prophet_ with its lurid headlines of young witches chained in dungeons, and fresh graves opened to reveal the grisly remains of murder victims. There were photographs showing the house with its damaged walls, and Harry’s name was prominently featured on the front page, although he noticed thankfully that there were no photos of himself or any of the others.

“This is another glorious chapter in the history of Dumbledore’s Army,” Ernie Macmillan proclaimed as he pumped Harry’s hand; Harry was surrounded by all of the DA members. “Even though Neville and Hermione and Ginny aren’t training to become Aurors, they demonstrated how well you prepared us.”

“I hope the Department sees it that way,” Harry grimaced. “I have a report to turn in this afternoon, and I’m not sure if I should be looking forward to her reaction.”

“Nonsense. How could she be anything but grateful? You handled everything superbly.”

“That’s right,” Seamus said as he perused an inside page of the newspaper. “This reporter says you planned the whole thing like a military operation and everything went off like clockwork.”

“But I didn’t plan it, and a couple of times I almost got me and Ginny killed.” Harry was starting to become embarrassed; he hadn’t expected this kind of welcome from the other students.

“But Harry,” Parvati said, “that’s the point. You _didn’t_ get killed. In fact, none of you were hurt, and neither were Keesha Baker and that Turquoise witch.”

“Well, let’s just wait and see what happens when I turn the report in.”

He told Ron that he had forgotten to copy it out, and had decided, on Ginny’s urging, to just turn it in as is.

“I hope she’s right,” Ron grunted. “Ushujaa’s liable to make you recopy it this afternoon if she doesn’t like it.’

All of their classes went quietly with no mention of recent events, but both Harry and Ron braced themselves for another onslaught of attention in the cafeteria. When they walked in with their classmates, conversations stopped, heads turned, and some fingers were pointed. They sat at their usual tables, but it wasn’t until after a few minutes that Harry noticed that the seating arrangements had subtly changed. Instead of taking random chairs at the four or five tables they used, their classmates placed themselves so that anyone trying to approach Harry or Ron would have to run a gauntlet of obstacles meant to discourage anyone from getting close.

Even Arthur Weasley was no exception. Harry knew that he wanted to ask about Ginny, but Arthur lost his balance and had to catch himself on a chair when Seamus “accidentally” pushed his own chair back just as Arthur was navigating between tables towards Ron and Harry.

“Mr. Weasley!” Harry jumped up and shot an annoyed look at Seamus, who returned an innocent gaze. Harry took Arthur’s arm and helped him stand. “Sorry,” he muttered. “Are you okay?”

Arthur ignored the question and spoke in a low voice. “How are _you_? And how is Ginny? Harry, we were a little worried, even after we heard from George.”

“I’m sorry about that. Ginny is fine. She wasn’t hurt at all. I’m sorry if you and Mrs. Weasley were worried.”

“She—I mean, we would appreciate it if you would both stop by the Burrow this weekend. Do you think you’ll have time?”

“Oh, sure. We have to be here tomorrow morning, but we could come in the afternoon.”

“Fine. Why don’t you plan to stay for dinner.” Arthur waved at Ron, carefully backed away from Seamus’s elbow, and returned to a table on the other side of the cafeteria.

Ron was standing at his seat when Harry returned. “He looked a little upset.”

“I can’t blame him,” Harry said as he resumed eating. “He probably expects that _you_ will be attacking houses full of Death Eaters, but not Ginny. Do you think he’s angry? He asked us to come for dinner tomorrow.”

“My guess is that Mum got hysterical and wants you and Gin there to make sure you’re both still in one piece.”

“But not you,” Harry grinned.

Ron shrugged. “He’ll remind Mum about us, so we’ll probably see you there.”

It was time for the students to meet with their Mentors. They returned to the common room where Harry picked up the report he had left in his locker; it wasn’t due until four o’clock, but since he couldn’t do any more with it, he figured he might as well turn it in early and possibly get some credit for that.

Ron wished him luck, and Harry made his way to the Head Auror’s office. Laura Lovegood glanced up and waved him through to the inner office. Harry took a breath and entered.

Saliyah was at her desk reading a parchment but put it down and pointed to a chair in front of the desk.

“How are you?” she asked neutrally.

“Okay. Here’s the report you wanted.” He put in on the desk and sat. Saliyah glanced at the first page, and looked up at Harry. He spoke before she could say anything.

“I dictated it to Hermione Granger yesterday. She wrote it up, and I didn’t get a chance to copy it. Ron was with us, of course.”

“Of course.” She gave him an inscrutable look and began reading. After a few minutes she skipped to the last page and read it. She put it down and gazed at Harry

 “What do you have to say for yourself?” she asked. Harry still couldn’t decipher her expression, so he took another deep breath and plunged in.

He told her about Pansy’s visit and her warning that the Death Eaters would harm Keesha if they were attacked by Aurors. He described their watches through the long night, and how he had set up Ron, Hermione, and Neville to watch the doors. “We wanted to act as fast as possible before they realized that Pansy had squealed on them, but since we had no idea what it was like inside the house, we had to wait until there was light. When we got inside—”

The Auror put up her hand and Harry stopped. “I’ll get the details from your report. I want to know how you feel about how you conducted yourself.”

This statement was just as baffling as her unreadable face. Either she was questioning his judgment, or she was giving him a roundabout compliment. But it was a strange way to offer praise; more likely it was implied criticism. _The hell with it_ , Harry thought, _I’m not going to apologize for doing the right thing_.

“The bottom line,” he began, trying to sound as confident as he could, “is that we succeeded. Keesha is safe, Turquoise is free, five murderers are in jail, and no one was hurt.”

“Several people were hurt,” Saliyah said. “Five to be exact, three of them seriously.” She waited for Harry to say something.

“Yes. Well.” He hesitated, again not sure what she was implying, starting to feel some annoyance at her concern for the Death Eaters. “They were hurt because they attacked us and we defended ourselves. One of them used a Killing Curse, for Merlin’s sake. What were we supposed to do?”

Saliyah stared at him for a moment, and Harry wished he hadn’t said that. Then she leaned back in her chair and began laughing.

“Oh, Harry,” she said when she stopped, “I finally got you to tell me off. It was brilliant! The entire operation was brilliant! I do wish you had tried to contact me after Pansy left the inn because we could have picked her up sooner, but that was a judgment call and I can’t fault you for it. Congratulations! You seem to have a way of winning these things.”

She beamed at him and Harry, to his consternation, giggled, and he could feel himself blush. “I, well, I—I—thank you!”

“You are most welcome.” She picked up the report and leafed through it. “We’ve questioned all of the prisoners and tied up most of the loose ends. I’d rather wait until tomorrow when I can tell all of you at the same time, but is there anything you want to ask? By the way, I’ve asked Miss Baker and Mr. Longbottom to join us.”

“What about Turquoise? Will she be all right?”

“She was dehydrated and undernourished. She’ll be okay in a few days. I’ll tell you all about her tomorrow. It’s quite a tale, some of it rather sordid.”

“She was very contrite when we found her. I hope she isn’t in any legal trouble.”

“Probably not, but that’s not up to me. Anything else?”

“There _is_ something that we left out of the report. It has to do with the Obliviate charms that Hermione used.”

“Ah.” Saliyah’s eyebrows rose, and she looked at Harry with interest. “We noticed them, and I was going to ask about them tomorrow.”

“I would prefer not to talk about it in front of Neville and Keesha. We—I mean Ginny and I—wanted Hermione to do the charms because she’s the best. There was a specific memory that we wanted to erase.”

“Go on.”

Harry steeled himself. “Do you know about the Elder Wand?”

“Yes,” she said, to Harry’s surprise. “Kingsley learned about it from Professor Dumbledore’s portrait, and he told me. Don’t’ worry,” she said quickly as Harry half-rose from his chair with a furious look on his face. “He and I are the only ones who Dumbledore told, and he told us here, down on the Tenth Level where he has another portrait. No one else was there. Your secret is safe.”

Harry sat back; he supposed he would have to be mollified, but he definitely did not like the idea of two more people being told about the Wand without his knowledge. He would have to find that portrait and have a word with the Headmaster. “Well, it’s not my secret anymore.”

Saliyah was puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“I am no longer the master of the Elder Wand. Ginny Weasley is. That’s the memory we wanted to Obliviate.” Saliyah gaped at him. Harry had never seen her so discomfited, and part of him was not sorry, after the revelation she had just made. “Umbridge disarmed me because I overlooked her hiding place. Ginny was behind both of us and disarmed _her_. That’s how Umbridge got the nose job.”

Saliyah smiled briefly. “You told Ginny to stay back?” When Harry nodded, she smiled again. “That was good thinking. So Ginny controls the Elder Wand. . .” Her brow furrowed and she looked away.

“It’s a very good thing,” Harry said when she didn’t speak. “No one will know except me, Ginny, Ron, Hermione, you, and, I assume, Kingsley, I mean the Minister. Even if someone challenges and defeats me, the Wand will still be safe. No one else need ever know that Ginny is the mistress, as she prefers to put it.”

“Now I see.” The Auror nodded with a glint in her eye. “I like that, Harry. Ginny will live a long life and when she passes—pardon me for putting it this way—the Elder Wand will be undone.” She sat back and nodded again. “Yes, I like that very much. No one else will ever know about this.”

“What about the Minister?”

“Of course I will tell him, but you knew that.”

Harry nodded. Now that the secret was out, he felt some uncertainty; he knew that he had no choice because Saliyah knew about the Obliviates, and he would not be able to sustain a lie about them. But now, the knowledge that two other people knew of the power that was in Ginny’s hand would always be in the back of his mind.

Saliyah shuffled the parchments on her desk. Harry stared at her; he had no reason not to trust her and the Minister for Magic. He and Ginny and Ron and Hermione had agreed on that. Besides, it was done.

The door behind him opened and Laura Lovegood came in. Saliyah looked up but the assistant handed Harry a parchment. “This just came in by owl,” she said. Harry took it and the witch left. It was from Ginny.

 

 

 

 

> _I don’t have good news. I got detention tonight, tomorrow, next Friday, and next Saturday, and on top of that rubbish, they are all with Filch, the ugly sod. I told them about our meeting at the Ministry tomorrow, and I’m allowed to go but I have to come back here as soon as it’s over. Also, I can’t leave the grounds for any reason for a month._
> 
> _I am so angry I don’t know what I am going to do. I am feeling quite crazy right now and I really need you. Can you come to dinner here? I don’t have to report to Filch until seven o’clock, so at least we could have a couple of hours together._
> 
> _I am not sorry that I stayed with you last night. I would not trade last night even if I had a million detentions. When I am out of this place I will never spend another night without you. I can’t wait for that._
> 
> _I love you. I hate this place. Please come and rescue me. I will wait in the common room until you get here._
> 
> _Ginny_

Harry felt sick to his stomach. He reread the letter, and looked up at Saliyah, who was watching him.

“Ginny got in trouble at school because she went off the grounds. Can I leave early, just this one time? She has detention tonight and tomorrow, and next weekend.”

“Of course. I’m sorry. Will she be here tomorrow?” Harry nodded and the Auror thought for a moment. “Maybe the meeting will last longer than we anticipated,” she said with a grin.

Harry grinned back and hurried off to the common room. It was not three o’clock yet, so thankfully no one else was there. He scrawled a quick note to Ron telling him what had happened and left it in his locker. He stuffed his books into his book bag and ran to the lifts, hammering on the button until one came. In another minute he was at a fireplace in the Atrium, and a moment after that he was in his flat. He threw his bag down on the love seat, got his Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder’s Map from the bedroom, and seconds later stepped out of the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room.

Ginny was sitting in a chair in front of the fireplace, the same one he had used for six years. She jumped up when he stepped out of the green flames and threw herself at him. After a minute he pushed her head back and saw that blazing look, but this time it was mixed with anger. Her cheeks were tear-streaked, and Harry knew they were tears of frustration.

“I’m sorry.” He put her head back on his chest and stroked her hair. “We’ll make up for it, I promise.”

“Did you bring your Cloak?” she asked, her eyes blazing even more fiercely.

Harry patted his pocket and looked around. There were about a dozen people in the common room, several of whom were watching. “Let’s get out of here.”

Ginny wiped her face, pulled her hair back and re-fastened the barrettes holding it. “I don’t care if we leave and never come back. I’m fed up with these pompous, self-important, stupid, idiotic—” She spluttered to a stop. “McGonagall didn’t want to hear anything! All she cares about is that someone broke her precious rules, as though the universe will fall apart if anyone steps out of line, out of her line. I hate her! It was a good thing my wand was in my pocket, or she’d have bat bogeys all over her ugly face. And I will kill Filch if he says one thing, just one thing! That son of a bitch was laughing at me, Harry. I just helped put a gang of murderers in jail and that wanker was laughing at me!”

She started crying again, and Harry put his arms around her. “Come on,” he said gently, “let’s go.”

They went through the portrait hole and when the Fat Lady made a remark about young witches who break the rules, Ginny spun on her and started shouting curses—magical curses—and the Fat Lady turned pale and quickly retreated out of the frame.

Harry put the Cloak over them and they walked around to the hallway outside the Room of Requirement. In a moment they were inside and Harry stowed the Cloak back in his pocket. The soft carpeting muffled their footsteps as they walked between velvet drapes lit by soft candlelight. Harry pulled a curtain back and they stepped into a dim chamber with a hammock floating in the air.

He moved towards it but Ginny took his arm. “Just hold me,” she whispered.

Harry took her in his arms. She was trembling as he stroked her hair and rubbed his hands over her back, pressing the heels of his palms against her, massaging the anger out of her body. Her trembling gradually stopped and she sighed.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I shouldn’t let them get to me like that. I’ll be out of here in three months, and then nothing will matter except us.”

She kissed him, and Harry guided her to the hammock. They fell into it and lay there, kissing and caressing each other. Gradually the caresses became more urgent. Time passed and nothing mattered, except themselves.


	47. Answers

They made it down to the Great Hall just as the serving dishes for the main course—grilled swordfish steak in an olive oil marinade—were being cleared for dessert, and they managed to grab some before it all vanished. Ginny had been very clingy in the hammock, and now she was silent while they ate. Shortly after they arrived, the twins moved down the table and showed Ginny a list of the names they wanted to give to the owlets. Ginny glanced at it.

“These look nice,” she said to the girls, “but l don’t want to talk about it now.”

“I’m sorry you got detention,” Emma said. “Professor McGonagall should have rewarded you, not made you spend all that time with Filch.” She shuddered. “He’s creepy.”

“That he is.” Ginny stabbed a chunk of fish with her fork, but put it down and pushed her plate away. “I’m not hungry,” she said to Harry. “Can we go someplace else? It’s still half an hour until I have to be at Filch’s office.”

Harry gave her his hand and they left the table. Many heads turned to watch, and Harry’s grip tightened when the sniggering of two older Slytherins carried over the other sounds in the Hall; he shot them a look as they walked out the door.

“Let me know if anyone says or does anything,” he said between clenched teeth. “McGonagall can’t touch me.”

“Please, Harry, don’t. I just want it to be over.”

At the entrance to the common room, when Ginny gave the password the Fat Lady leered and started to say something, but Ginny pointed her finger. “Shut up and open the damn door,” she snarled. “Have you ever heard of paint remover?”

The Fat Lady recoiled with a shriek and raised herself up. “Well,” she huffed, “I never heard such a crude thing in my life.” Ginny pulled her wand out and the door quickly opened.

Ginny strode to the chairs in front of the fireplace and threw herself down. She stared morosely into the fire while Harry pushed another chair close to hers and sat. He reached out and put his hand on her arm; Ginny sighed and looked at him miserably.

“What am I going to do?” she said as more tears of frustration brimmed in her eyes. “I can’t face spending tonight and all day tomorrow with Argus Filch. I was serious, Harry, I _will_ do something to him, and that will ruin everything.”

Seeing Ginny like this, and his helplessness, made Harry feel worse than the prospect of not having her with him tonight. He ran his hand up and down her arm. “I wish I could do something. Maybe if I talked to McGonagall she would change her mind.”

Ginny shook her head. “You don’t understand, she’s angry because I stayed out for two nights, but she’s furious because I _got_ out and she doesn’t know how. She’s sure that you were involved, so I don’t think this would be the best time for you to talk to her.”

“But a month without leaving the grounds? That’s outrageous, it’s unreasonable!”

Ginny sighed. “Maybe if I don’t cause any trouble with Filch she’ll relent. Damn!” She suddenly stood and started pacing in front of the fire. “I can’t do it! It was bad enough last fall when I had to clean all those wretched cupboards, but I wasn’t fed up with everything else like I am now. It’s totally unfair!”

She stopped; she was facing the windows, and Harry came and put his arms around her from behind, pulling her close. He kissed the back of her neck and Ginny put her hand on his cheek.

“Don’t do anything but this.” She turned her head and closed her eyes. “Just hold me.”

The portrait hole opened and Emma and Claire came in, talking loudly and excitedly to each other; Emma was clutching a stack of small leaflets, and Claire held several large posters. ”Hi, Ginny! Hi, Harry!” they called together.

“We saw your brother and his friend downstairs,” Emma said. “They had these leaflets and posters. We told them about your detention.”

“Do you mean George?” Ginny said. When Emma nodded, Ginny added, “And Lee Jordan?”

“No, it was a girl, I think her name is Angelina.”

“What are they doing here?”

Harry answered. “When the castle was sealed and you were in the hospital wing, George asked me to put up ads for the new Zonko’s. It sounds like he decided to do it himself.”

“Then what are Emma and Claire doing with all this stuff?” Ginny asked, pointing to the leaflets and posters.

“George said he had something else to do, so he gave us everything. We’re going to put the posters up in all the common rooms and hand the leaflets out in the Great Hall,” Emma said brightly.

“How will you get into the common rooms?” Harry said, but put his hand up. “Wait, let me guess. You know all the passwords and all the secrets that open all the doors.”

“Of course,” said Claire matter-of-factly. “Our friends tell us. But we came here first so that Gryffindors will be the first to know.”

“You two are amazing. Let’s see the poster.”

Claire unrolled one and held it up. Across the top was the Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes logo and the words, “Opening soon in Hogsmeade as The New Zonko’s!!” Beneath it was a grinning George Weasley holding a lit firecracker. Suddenly he tossed it straight at them; Ginny didn’t move but Harry jumped back as the firecracker exploded. When the smoke in the picture cleared, George was standing there with a soot-covered face, his clothes in tatters, and his hair on fire, but still grinning. After a second or two he reverted back to an undamaged George.

Harry laughed and Ginny managed a small smile. Claire also grinned. “I guess we’ll have to wait to go there until Easter when our parents come,” she said, but she added in a loud whisper, “Dennis said he’ll bring us back some good jokes next Hogsmeade weekend.”

The twins took the posters to the bulletin board and started tacking one up. Ginny glanced at a clock on the wall. “It’s time,” she muttered, and turned to Harry. “It’s supposed to be for three hours. You’ll watch me on the map, won’t you, so you’ll know I’m back?”

“No, I’m waiting here.” He patted his pocket. “I’ll know when you get out; I have the map.”

Ginny sighed. “Thanks, love.” She turned and started for the portrait hole.

“I’ll come with you,” Harry called.

Ginny turned. “No, Harry. If he sees you he’ll just gloat and I’ll do something that’ll get us both in trouble.”

“I have the Cloak, he won’t see me.”

She bowed her head for a moment, but looked up and shook it. “Just wait here.”

Harry was left with that helpless feeling and nothing to do. He fell into a chair and sat, staring into space, trying not to think of what kind of foul chore Ginny would have to perform. Students drifted in from dinner, and some of them came over and talked with him, asking about what had happened in Hogsmeade and if it was true that Ginny had detention for the rest of the term. Their conversations were interrupted every few minutes by the new poster as George’s firecracker periodically exploded. Someone finally got sick of it and cut the firecracker out of the picture; George’s hand still made a throwing gesture and his face, clothes, and hair still showed the effects of the explosion, but there were no more loud bangs.

Richie Coote, a prefect, asked Harry if he wanted to join a poker game—one Sickle ante, dealer’s call, no magic—so he sat at a table in the dimly lit fifth-year boys’ dormitory room, not concentrating very well and losing a fair amount of gold. He left after two hours, much to the sorrow of the other players and, back in the common room, dozed in a chair.

He awoke with a start and saw that it was almost ten o’clock. He glanced around; no one was nearby so he took out his map. Ginny was in Filch’s office by herself. He searched for the caretaker and saw his dot moving slowly down the corridor towards the office. When he got there, he went behind his desk and Ginny’s dot stood in front of it. After a few minutes, Ginny left. Harry hurriedly left the common room and headed for the staircase that Ginny was climbing. They met halfway, and Ginny looked puzzled.

“Filch never showed up until right before ten o’clock,” she said. “I had a three hour nap. It’s a shame, because if I had known he wasn’t going to be there I could have ransacked the office and maybe found another map like yours or something.” She glanced at the Marauder’s Map that Harry was stuffing into his pocket. “A lost opportunity.”

Harry was also puzzled. “I didn’t check it until right before ten. You were alone and I figured he had you doing some kind of job in his office and left you there.”

Ginny shook her head. “When he showed up he was really embarrassed. He seemed kind of confused. He said he forgot. I wonder if he’s getting senile.”

Harry snorted. “Hopefully he’ll forget tomorrow too.”

Ginny smiled; it was the first smile he had seen from her that evening. “I’m glad you waited here,” she said and put her hands on his chest. Harry put his hands on top of hers and kissed her, ignoring sniggers and comments from nearby portraits. “What shall we do?” he said. “The night is still young.”

“How about a midnight stroll down to the lake? It’s not too cold. I’ll just need to get a cloak. And we know it’s completely safe now.”

“Yes, we do know that.”

Harry put his arm around her as they headed back to Gryffindor Tower. Ginny went up to her room to retrieve a cloak, and they went downstairs and out onto the lawn. They strolled down to the Black Lake under a clear, starry sky and a half moon off in the west. The water was very calm, even reflecting some of the brighter stars. They lit their wands when they could no longer see the path by the lights of the castle as they walked around the lake. They sat on the grass with their backs to the White Tomb, looking out over the still water. Ginny talked about her Quidditch tryout and their wedding plans, and Harry was glad that she was distracted.

On their way back they saw lights in Hagrid’s cabin and decided to pay a visit. On their way down the hill they heard the whoosh of great wings and looked up to see the dark shadow of a hippogriff against the stars, also heading towards the cabin. When they got there they heard Hagrid’s booming voice coming from the back where Buckbeak’s paddock was. They walked around; the gamekeeper was standing next to the great creature with a brush in his hand, rubbing down Buckbeak’s back and haunches, as well as carrying on a conversation with the beast.

“So yeh had detention with Filch,” Hagrid observed as they all walked back to his cabin. He lowered his voice. “An’ I appreciate yer not lettin’ on about our little, ah, meetin’ up in the owlery.” He gave Ginny a wink.

Fang barked and sniffed around them as they entered the cabin. “So what brings yeh down here this time of night?” He set giant mugs on the table and lit a fire under a teakettle on the stove.

“Nothing, really,” said Harry. “We were just taking a walk since Ginny can’t leave the grounds for a month.”

“Yeh, that’s a tough one.” Hagrid joined them at the table. “There’s a lot of folks don’ agree with that, Ginny. They figure yeh should be rewarded fer what yeh did, not punished.”

“That’s what I figure too,” she growled.

“Well, just hang in there. Maybe we can work on Perfessor McGonagall an’ get her to back off some.”

“I’m not counting on it, but I’ll be gone in three months and she can go stuff it.”

“Hmm.” Hagrid poured tea; he also put a plate of rock biscuits on the table, which Harry and Ginny managed to ignore.

After a few silent minutes, Hagrid brightened and turned to Ginny. “Did them twins show yeh the names they picked fer the owlets? They’re darlin’.”

“I thought they were cute,” Ginny smiled. “As long as Bailey likes them, it’s okay with me.”

“Hey, what about McPherson?” Harry said. “Doesn’t the dad get a say?”

“Actually,” Hagrid replied, “most owls get their names from the owner of their mum, so I guess that makes Ginny the official owl namer.” He beamed and patted her shoulder, sending her sprawling onto the floor.

Harry helped her up, and they sat slurping tea and chatting for another half hour, when the ground began to shake and there was a knock on the door. Hagrid sprang up with a grin on his face. “I was hopin’ she’d come before yeh left!” He opened the door and Madame Maxime ducked her head and entered. She started to lean towards Hagrid with her lips puckered, but he gestured at the table with his thumb, and she gave a little cry.

“Ginny Weasley! Harry Potter! What a pleasure to see you. How is everything?” Her smile faded as she looked at Ginny. “You had your first detention, n’est-ce pas, I mean, didn’t you? Minerva was quite wrong, but unfortunately she was also quite angry.”

Ginny glanced at Harry. “Don’t worry about it, Professor. Mr. Filch and I are very good friends.”

“Wha?” Hagrid looked at her in disbelief. “Yeh hate his guts, dontcha? Oh,” he grinned as Ginny nodded, “I get yeh. Well . . .” He ushered Maxime to the table and held a chair for her.

She was wearing a dark blue pants outfit with a matching cloak; her witch’s hat, which she took off and handed to Hagrid who hung it on a hook, was also blue and decorated with stars and planets. She gazed pleasantly at Harry and Ginny.

“You are both to be congratulated for your magnificent deed. I saw Miss Baker this morning and she spoke of nothing but her gratitude. You may have saved her life.”

Harry mumbled a thank you. The professor smiled. “Your modesty is legendary, Mr. Potter. I hope Miss Weasley can teach you that accepting gratitude is perfectly fine.”

Her laughter, although loud, was somehow gentle. Harry and Ginny both blushed, and Hagrid grinned.

They talked for another fifteen minutes, and Ginny nudged Harry’s leg under the table. He looked at her. “Oh, right. Well, we have to be at the Ministry tomorrow morning. We’d better be going.”

They left Hagrid and Madame Maxime and walked back across the lawn holding hands. “Let’s do this again,” Ginny said. “If I can’t go to Hogsmeade, at least I can get out of the castle. But maybe we shouldn’t butt in on Hagrid and Madame Maxime.” She smiled at Harry in the darkness.

“I’ll come over tomorrow after the meeting at the Ministry. How long do you have detention for?”

Ginny sighed. “Until four o’clock.”

Harry whistled. “That’s not right. I’m sorry, Gin, I’m going to talk to McGonagall. She can’t do that, it’s totally unfair.”

Ginny said nothing, so they parted in the common room at the door to the girls’ dormitory, and Harry held her closely, running his fingers through her hair and rubbing her back as she rested her head on his chest. He kissed her tenderly and held the door to the stairwell and watched until she was out of sight around the corner.

# # # #

The Ministry of Magic had scheduled a Portkey for Ginny, Keesha, Harry, and Neville—who was still staying at The Three Broomsticks—for nine forty-five Saturday morning. They met in the Headmistress’s office; Professor McGonagall was brisk and all business as usual. Ginny asked Harry before they entered not to say anything, so he remained silent.

Keesha, however, gave Harry a huge hug and kiss. “I never said thank you,” she grinned. “My folks want to have everyone over for a big dinner in a week or two, after things settle down.”

“Um.” Harry glanced at Ginny, and Keesha’s eyes grew wide and she put her hand to her mouth.

“Oh, God, I forgot. Ginny, I’m sorry.” She glanced at the Headmistress who was setting a rather large, banged up rubbish bin on the floor in front of her desk; it did not appear that she had heard Keesha, or else she was ignoring her.

“Don’t worry about it,” Ginny said with a half-smile. “I’ll be fine.”

Keesha gave Ginny’s hand a squeeze, and looked at Harry. He glanced at McGonagall; the Headmistress was now watching them.

“The Portkey will leave in one minute, so please gather round.” She looked at each of them in turn, and didn’t flinch from either Harry’s tightlipped or Ginny’s cool gazes.

They all placed their hands on the lip of the rubbish bin, and in a few seconds were in the outer room of the Head Auror’s office in the Ministry of Magic. Laura Lovegood was standing behind her desk, obviously expecting them, and she opened the door of Saliyah’s office for them.

Harry led the way and saw his Mentor seated behind her desk; six comfortable chairs were placed in front of it, and two teapots, six mugs, and three trays heaped with biscuits and pastries were on the desk, all within easy reach of anyone sitting in the chairs. Ron and Hermione were already there; the tray in front of Ron had a serious dent in its contents.

Saliyah rose. “Good morning, and thank you all for coming. Please sit.”

They filed in and took seats; Laura sat in a chair off to the side and behind them. Saliyah poured tea in each mug, sat, and beamed at each one in turn.

“I’m very glad you could all come. What I want to do is get everyone’s perspective on what happened two days ago in Hogsmeade. I also want to pass on to you what we learned from interrogating the prisoners you captured. You all probably know that Harry turned in a report yesterday, and a very good one, I might add. As complete as it is, it’s always good to cross-check observations and fill in the pieces that Harry didn’t directly observe. When we’re finished, we’re all invited to luncheon in the Minister’s office.

“So . . .” She smiled again and sat back. “Ginny, why don’t you begin. Just tell us exactly what you saw and did. Some things will be different from what Harry said, but that doesn’t mean that you’re contradicting him; that’s not the point here. We’ll record everything—” she nodded to her assistant sitting behind them “—and see how we can reconcile the differences. No one’s version is the right one or the wrong one.”

Ginny began with her arrival at the Hog’s Head Inn while Pansy Parkinson was talking with Harry; she didn’t say how or why she had arrived at that particular moment, and Saliyah didn’t ask. She went on to describe everything that she had seen and done. Neville went next, followed by Ron and Hermione. Saliyah had to interrupt her several times when she launched into detailed explanations for things like how Harry’s disarming of the warning spell on the house had worked, and her theory about how and why the Fidelius charm had finally terminated.

“If you like, you can write your own report,” the Auror said to her. “We’d be very pleased to have it. Right now, kindly just describe what you saw and did.”

Hermione pressed her lips together briefly, but continued and was soon finished. Saliyah leaned her elbows on the desk and gazed at them all thoughtfully while Laura Lovegood refilled the tray in front of Ron.

“Does anyone want to add or change anything?” Saliyah said. The five looked at each other and all shook their heads. “Miss Baker,” the Auror said to Keesha, “we’ve already got your statement, so unless there is something you want to say now . . .” She looked at Keesha who also shook her head.

Saliyah leaned back. “Well, then, now it’s your turn to ask me questions.”

“How is Turquoise,” Harry said, “and how did she get involved in all this? Was she Imperiused?”

“Yes, she was, although not all the time. The Parkinson family, including Pansy, got to know her when she worked in a wizard inn last year in York. Pansy became involved in Umbridge’s scheme after the breakout from Azkaban and after Umbridge found out that Miss Southeby was trying to get a job at your inn. Pansy was the one who approached Turquoise. I don’t know how much of Southeby’s history you know, but her parents were killed in the first war by Aurors. It was an accident, but she resented it, of course, and she was a willing accomplice, at least at first. Oh, and she’s still in St. Mungo’s, but she’s recovering.”

Ginny frowned. “So the first few times Harry or I saw her, she wasn’t Imperiused?”

“That’s right, but after a month she became uncomfortable with the whole charade. She’s a flirt, Ginny, and she’s always been able to attract men with her looks, but she isn’t a harlot. She told us that she especially didn’t like doing it when you were around.”

“She could have fooled me,” Ginny muttered.

Saliyah continued. “After a few weeks she wanted out, but Umbridge didn’t trust her. The only reason they didn’t kill her was that Pansy had known her before. From then on she was either Imperiused or locked up in that cellar. But right before Christmas, one of them didn’t put the Curse on her correctly, and she left the house and walked to Hogsmeade. That’s when you saw her outside the inn, Harry. She wanted to go inside and talk to you, but she was still half Cursed and completely scared, not only of Umbridge but of you.”

“Me?” Harry exclaimed. “Why would she . . .” He looked at Ginny. “I guess I can understand that. It was only a couple of weeks after . . . after the Turntongue. I was still pretty angry about it.” Ginny reached over and took his hand.

“I have a question,” said Ron as he brushed crumbs from his lap onto the floor, not noticing Laura’s frown. “Who were the blokes who killed that weasel and tossed it inside the inn?”

“One of the Death Eaters killed it,” Saliyah explained, “or maybe it was Umbridge. We didn’t really try to find out, but if you’re interested we can look into it. They caught the weasel near the house, then went down to Edinburgh and kidnapped four vagrants. They brought them up to Hogsmeade, Imperiused and Obliviated them, and set them on the inn. One of them put up the first Dark Mark, but when Harry got rid of it so easily, Pansy herself did both the second and third ones. Umbridge blew up the chimney, and four or five of them, I’m not certain, broke the windows.”

“But Umbridge was in the Post Office when they wrecked the chimney,” Keesha said. “Wasn’t that her, disguised as Turquoise?”

“No, that was the Imperiused Turquoise. She—”

“Wait a minute,” Harry cut in. “She was not Imperiused. I can tell. She didn’t have that vacant stare; I’ve seen it plenty of times.”

“A talented witch or wizard can make it look like there’s no Curse,” Saliyah said.

“So Umbridge did that.”

“It wasn’t Umbridge who Imperiused Turquoise Southeby. It was Pansy Parkinson.”

“What!” all six of them said together; Saliyah laughed.

“Yes, she’s quite talented at casting Unforgivable Curses. I don’t think she killed anyone, but she used plenty of Imperios. That’s why Umbridge recruited her, in addition to the fact that one of the escapees already knew her.”

“That fits with what she did at Hogwarts last year,” Neville said, and both Ginny and Keesha nodded agreement. “She was almost as bad as Vincent Crabbe.”

“That brings up a few questions about her,” Hermione spoke. “Why was she the Secret-Keeper, and why did she turn on them and go to Harry?”

Saliyah frowned. “We don’t know for sure what the answers to those questions are. Pansy did tell us that she became frightened after Umbridge killed the two Argentines and forced the others to kill their comrades who were wounded in the ambush near the Shrieking Shack. Pansy is complicated, Hermione. She was, as you know, attached to Draco Malfoy, but she came to see that he was only using her for his own purposes and, ah, gratification; she was bitter, needless to say. Also, as you know, she was close to the Abernathy family whose daughter was almost killed on Umbridge’s orders. That was probably what started her thinking about telling someone the Secret and leaving the country.”

“Is she in Azkaban?” Ginny asked.

“No, she’s in a detention cell here in the Ministry. She committed some serious crimes, but she did give us—gave Harry and you, that is—the key information, and she has been very cooperative since her arrest.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Hermione said. “Why did they make her the Secret-Keeper?”

Saliyah smiled and nodded. “I beg your pardon. Basically, she was the only one who Umbridge could trust, aside from herself. All the others had escaped from Azkaban and Umbridge couldn’t be completely certain of their reliability or stability. Even without dementors, it’s still a pretty grim place. And Umbridge also wanted to spread the liability around, so to speak. If the plot failed and they were captured, Umbridge could point to Pansy and say that she was just as guilty because she was the Secret-Keeper.”

“How did you catch Pansy?” Ginny asked. “When she left us, it sounded like she was on her way out of the country.”

Saliyah hesitated. “Let’s just say that she delayed her departure and we caught up with her.”

Neville looked around at the others, “Can I ask a question?” he said. “No one ever told me exactly why they kidnapped Keesha. We talked about it and figured it was because of her uncle. Is that right?”

Saliyah hesitated again, but nodded. “It’s true, but please don’t talk about it in public.” She looked at Keesha and Neville, and they both nodded together. “It’s kind of a sensitive topic,” the Auror continued. “Kingsley doesn’t like publicity that affects his family; I’m sure you can understand. Umbridge didn’t target you until she saw you walking back to Hogwarts with Harry, and then she decided to make you a hostage. She thought that it would prevent us from storming the house if the Secret was somehow revealed. I don’t think they counted on only two people storming the house under an Invisibility Cloak.” She smiled, reached for one of the teapots and held it up. “Would anyone like a refill?”

She stood and poured, and as she was sitting again Hermione put her mug down, and glanced at Harry.

“I think we haven’t touched on the crux of the matter, Miss Ushujaa,” Hermione said. “I know that Harry has wondered about something, and so have I, for quite a while. Pansy told him that Umbridge was after something, not just revenge. What was it?”

Harry spoke before Saliyah could answer. “Umbridge did say something,” he said to Hermione. “I never told you, or anyone else for that matter, because it was kind of bizarre. She said something about ‘a piece of him.’ Did she mean the seventh Horcrux?” he said to Saliyah.

The Auror closed her eyes for a moment, and there was a long silence before she reluctantly returned her gaze to Harry and spoke.

“Unfortunately, yes. A rumor about it started in Azkaban last summer; as far as I know it’s still in circulation there—” Harry groaned “—and Umbridge chose to believe it. She thought that if she killed you it would liberate the piece of Voldemort’s soul that was supposedly still inside you, and then it would be able to take over someone else’s body and he would live again.”

The room was dead silent; even the sound of Laura’s quill scratching on parchment had stopped. Harry felt Ginny squeeze his hand and looked at her; she stared back, and he could see the horror deep in her eyes.

Finally Keesha said, “What are you talking about?”

The Auror closed her eyes again and frowned; she opened them and proceeded to describe Riddle’s Horcruxes to Keesha and Neville. “This is another subject I must ask you not to talk about, either in public or in private to anyone else. I think you can see why.”

Keesha shuddered. “Don’t worry, I’m sorry I asked.”

“Tell me,” Harry said tersely to Saliyah, “does this mean that all the nutters in Azkaban, and maybe some that aren’t in Azkaban, are going to try the same thing that Umbridge did if they get the chance?”

“We will see to it that they don’t get the chance,” she said firmly. “None of them is getting out of Azkaban anytime soon, I will guarantee that.”

“You can’t guarantee the ones who aren’t in prison,” Ginny said angrily. “What about them?”

Saliyah looked at her with concern. “I agree, Ginny, but no one has a one hundred percent guarantee in this world.”

“That’s crazy!” Ginny’s face flushed and she banged her fist on the arm of her chair. “You discover a plot against Harry and then you say you can’t do anything about it?”

The Auror sighed. “There is nothing to prevent any psychotic witch or wizard walking down the street from using a Killing Curse against anyone. Fortunately, people like that rarely start off with murder, so we get our hands on them long before they get to that point. I don’t see any reason why Harry is in more danger than anyone else.”

“Because he’s Harry!”

“And because in his case there are political motivations,” Hermione added, a little more calmly than Ginny. “As irrational as it is, an unstable person might decide to try something, not because he’s psychotic, but because he wants to bring Voldemort back.”

“I think what I have to do,” Harry said, interrupting Saliyah who had started to answer Hermione, “is to tell the whole story to the _Daily Prophet_.”

Ginny stared at him in dismay; Hermione stared at him thoughtfully; Saliyah frowned; the others just stared.

Five people suddenly spoke at once, but Saliyah raised her hand and said loudly, “Let’s not have this conversation now, people. Please.” Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Keesha subsided. Ginny however scowled fiercely at the Auror with her hands gripping her chair.

“Why don’t we take a little break?” Saliyah said. “We could all use a stretch of the legs.” She came from behind the desk and she and Laura walked out of the room into the front office.

The six looked at each other. Ginny was the first to speak. “Harry, why on earth would you want to tell the _Prophet_ about the Horcruxes?”

“It sounds like the story is coming out anyway,” he answered, “but completely wrong. I think I have enough credibility so that if I tell it right, people will believe me.”

“You’re taking a chance, mate,” said Ron. “It’s bound to be messed up and come out wrong.”

Harry shrugged. “That’s the point, it’s already come out wrong.”

Hermione had been biting her lip, and in the silence, Harry looked at her. “I know you have something to say.”

Hermione nodded, but continued to think while the others waited.

“You are right as far as getting an accurate story out is concerned,” she said at last, “but there are other considerations. The main one is that you’ll be opening a Pandora’s box. If people don’t talk about Horcruxes now, it’s because they don’t even know they exist. Do you remember how hard it was to find out anything about them? There was nothing in the Hogwarts library because Dumbledore had removed all the books. It’s a very dangerous subject. You will displease a lot of people if you talk about them in public.”

“What the hell is a Pandora’s box?” said Ron.

Hermione tisked and looked at him with exasperation. “It’s a Muggle myth that means releasing evil into the world.”

Harry cocked his head at her. “Is that what you think I would be doing? I wouldn’t be releasing something that wasn’t already there.”

“Harry, how many people in our year do you think know about Horcruxes? I’ll tell you: exactly four, and Neville didn’t know until ten minutes ago.” She looked at him and he nodded. “And how many in Ginny’s year know? Exactly two. I’ll bet you a full week’s pay that no one else at Hogwarts knows. And that’s probably a larger percentage than the general wizarding public. You _would_ be releasing a horrid evil, Harry. Don’t do it.”

Harry sat back, looking disgruntled. He turned to Ginny. “What do you think?”

“It scares me,” she said with a worried look. “I don’t want stupid, dangerous stories about you floating around, but I think Hermione is right. It could just make things worse.”

“Can I say something?” Keesha said.

Harry turned to her, a bit surprised. “Sure. A fresh perspective is good.”

“From the sound of it, you’ve been living with these . . . Horcruxes for a while, but it’s all new to me. The whole thing is totally repulsive. I understand why you’re worried about some nutter coming after you, but no one knows about them except . . . well, except us now. By talking about it, you are just going to make the crazy people crazier.”

Hermione leaned forward. “Harry, if everyone started talking about them, there are bound to be at least a few who would try to make one. And even if they failed, it would still mean that someone would have died.”

Harry looked from Hermione to Ginny to Ron, who nodded. “I agree. Don’t do it.”

“Okay,” Harry said, but reluctantly. “I won’t say anything, at least for now.”

The door behind them opened and Saliyah and Laura came back in. “You don’t want to stretch your legs?” the Head Auror said. “It’s still an hour until lunch.” She took her seat behind the desk and gazed at them.

Harry shifted in his seat. “I decided not to say anything about Horcruxes. But I’m still not happy about that rumor.”

“I understand completely,” Saliyah replied. “We’ll have a go at it later, you, Ginny, and I, okay?” Harry nodded, again reluctantly.

They spent the next hour talking about the attacks on the inn and the ambush in the lane. It was Umbridge who had been hiding in the Post Office, disguised as Turquoise. The two Argentines had hidden the Peruvian Darkness Powder in the Shrieking Shack, but removed it after the first time Harry saw them there. The Death Eaters brought it back during the snowstorm the morning of the ambush, to use as cover for themselves and to disorient Harry and his friends. However, the appearance of Harry’s Patronus had completely confused them, otherwise they probably would have had more success than they did.

At noon they took a lift to the Minister’s office. Kingsley welcomed them with handshakes and a broad smile, and gave Keesha a hug. Ron’s eyes grew wide when he saw luncheon spread out on a side table: poached salmon, roast beef, baked potatoes, salad greens, pasta salad, fresh loaves of bread, tubs of butter, and a separate dessert table of cake and ice cream.

Keesha watched him pile food on his plate. “Where does he put it?” she wondered. “He ate most of the pastries this morning and all the biscuits.”

Ginny chuckled. “Mum told me her food bill dropped by fifty percent when he started Hogwarts.”

“If I ate a tenth of what he does I’d gain fifty pounds.” Keesha shook her head.

An hour passed pleasantly. Kingsley asked general questions about the raid on the house and about other things in their lives; he seemed to know a lot about all of them, and to be genuinely interested. As time passed, though, Harry noticed Ginny becoming quieter. He knew that she was thinking about the detention awaiting her, and the unlikelihood that Filch would forget again. He brought her a dish of chocolate ice cream and she smiled, but ate only one spoonful, sighed, and put it down. “I don’t want to go back to Hogwarts, I want to go to the inn with you.” She leaned against him.

“Me too.” He put his arm around her. “I’ll wait in the common room again. Shall I bring the Cloak?” he asked in a low voice.

“I suppose,” she said without much enthusiasm, but took his hand and squeezed it. “Sure, love,” she smiled, “bring it. We’ll stay out all night.”

Harry suddenly smacked his forehead. ‘Uh, oh. I completely forgot about dinner with your folks.”

“Don’t worry,” Ginny said. “Dad sent me an owl last night but I told him I couldn’t come. I would have tried to get out of it anyway. I’m sure what happened is that Mum got hysterical Thursday night and made him talk to you.”

“That’s what Ron said. Maybe they can come to Hogwarts and . . . No?”

Ginny was shaking her head vigorously. “No! Please don’t even suggest it. A dinner with them is the last thing I want right now. When I’m off detention we’ll go, or maybe we can invite them to the inn.” She thought for a moment. “Yes, we’ll have them on our own turf.”

Harry grinned. “I hope I’ll get used to family politics. You and Ron are experts.”

Ginny laughed, and Harry put his arm around her shoulders again and hugged her; he hadn’t heard her laugh all day, and he liked the sound.

Someone came up behind them and they turned to see Kingsley. “It sounds like you’re enjoying yourselves,” he said in his deep voice. “I’m glad. You’ve been under a lot of stress lately.” He smiled sympathetically at Ginny. “The party’s breaking up in a few minutes, but I’d like both of you to stay for a little chat. Saliyah tells me that you brought up some serious questions this morning, and I don’t want them to go unanswered. Can you stay?”

“Of course,” Harry said promptly, and Ginny nodded.

“Good.” The Minister smiled and strode away to speak with Saliyah.

Ten minutes later Ron, Hermione, Keesha, and Neville left—Hermione grabbed Ron’s wrist when he tried to take a slice of cake with him—and Kingsley escorted Harry and Ginny into his office. Laura followed, but not Saliyah, and they sat in the easy chairs grouped to one side in front of the fireplace.

“First of all,” Kingsley said, “I can’t thank you enough for getting Keesha out of there, and unharmed.” He reached across and took a hand from both Harry and Ginny. “You keep finding ways to perform acts of courage.” He looked intently at Harry as he spoke, and Harry squirmed in his seat.

“I’m sorry I missed you at the inn,” Harry said. “We were all pretty tired, and . . .“

“I understand. I only wanted to thank you and make sure you were all unhurt. And my sister and her husband asked me to thank you and Ginny too.”

He became serious. “Now, Saliyah told me that the matter of Horcruxes came up this morning. I’ll be blunt, Harry, I wish you hadn’t said anything in front of Keesha and Neville. Saliyah is speaking with them right now, impressing on them most urgently how sensitive and dangerous the subject is. I know I don’t need to impress it on you. Except for the people who Riddle killed, you, Harry, suffered more than anyone.”

He paused and frowned, thinking. “I’m sorry,” he said after a moment. “I shouldn’t have said that. No one needs to say that to you. I simply have a different perspective on the subject. Is that better?”

“I do see your perspective, sir,” Harry said. “ _My_ perspective is that someone has already come close to killing me, my future wife, and my friends because of fairy tales about Horcruxes. I’ve lived my whole life under a death threat, and frankly, _sir_ , I’m damned sick and tired of it.”

Harry hadn’t realized how vehement he had become. He had pushed himself forward in his chair until he was almost out of it; now he looked at Ginny who was staring at him with a startled expression, and he slowly sat back, dropping his eyes to his lap, not daring to look up.

Kingsley turned to Laura Lovegood. “Please find Saliyah and ask her to come right away.” She left, and in a few minutes returned with the Head Auror. They took seats and Kingsley cleared his throat.

“Saliyah,” he said, “I would like you to do something for me. Can you track down the source of the rumor about the Horcrux and Harry? I’m hoping that it originated in Azkaban and hasn’t spread any farther. If it has spread, we need to do something to stop it. Can you do that?”

The Auror nodded. “You may be right. When Harry told me about it, that was the first I had heard of it. I don’t understand, though, how we can stop it from spreading if it’s already started to circulate.”

“I have some ideas, but we can talk about them later,” Kingsley replied. “Meanwhile,” he turned to Harry, “we’ll continue to guard the inn. I won’t ask if that satisfies you, but I hope you’ll take it for a bit more than a gesture on our part.”

“Of course.” Harry said, having recovered from his surprise at the Minister’s reaction to his outburst. “And I—I do appreciate it.”

“No, Harry,” Kingsley said as he stood, “the appreciation is on our part.” He shook everyone’s hand, and they returned to the Head Auror’s office.

“There’s a Portkey waiting inside,” Saliyah said when they arrived. “We have about five minutes.”

An old lampshade was sitting on her desk, and Harry and Ginny sat in front of it. “There was one question you didn’t answer,” Harry said as Saliyah took her seat. “How did you catch Pansy?”

“Yes, you are right, I didn’t answer that one because it wasn’t for everyone’s ears. We went to her home in Dringhouses and asked her sister, the one who was friendly with Miss Abernathy, to send an owl to Pansy saying she needed to see her immediately. I was actually a little surprised that Miss Pansy fell for the trick; I thought she would have been a bit more suspicious.”

“You _asked_ her sister?” Ginny said, but at that moment the lampshade began to glow a soft, iridescent blue, and Saliyah pointed to it. Harry and Ginny put their hands on it and in a moment were back in Professor McGonagall’s office.

The Headmistress was sitting behind her desk reading a parchment; she gazed at them impassively. “Good day again, Mr. Potter,” she nodded, “and Miss Weasley. You have an appointment to keep for another two hours, I believe.”

She picked up a quill and began writing, ignoring them. Harry opened his mouth but Ginny pulled his arm and shook her head when he looked at her. They left without another word from the Professor.

“I _will_ talk to her,” Harry muttered.

“I just want to get it over with,” Ginny frowned. “Do you have the map with you? Filch is supposed to be in his office.”

Harry took out the Marauder’s Map as they walked, and stopped. “He’s not there. Here he is, look.” He pointed to the tiny room in the cellar that was Filch’s flat; the dot labeled “Argus Filch” was there, and didn’t move as they peered at it.

“Is he asleep?” Ginny wondered.

When they reached the door to Filch’s office, down the corridor from his apartment, Ginny knocked, but there was no answer. “This is exactly what happened yesterday,” she said. She opened the door a crack, peeked inside, and opened it wide. The cluttered desk, covered with parchments, the half-closed cabinets stuffed with bulging folders, the cupboards with brooms and mops falling out, stood mutely.

They walked in and Ginny plopped herself down in the only chair besides the one behind the desk. “Nap time,” she giggled.

“Should I stay with you?”

“Merlin, no! If he finds you here I’ll be cooked. Can you wait in the common room? Do you have the Cloak?”

“You bet.”

“I wonder what’s going on,” Ginny said after they had snogged for a few minutes. “This is not at all like the Filch we’ve come to know and love. He’s been on my case all year; I can’t imagine why he would miss a chance to lord it over me.”

Harry gave her one last squeeze. “Count your blessings. I’ll be waiting.”

He returned to the Gryffindor common room, found an empty couch, and was soon asleep. He was awakened by a kiss, and opened his eyes to see Ginny’s smiling face inches from his. Harry sat up and Ginny slid into his lap.

“He showed up five minutes before the detention ended,” she said after another lengthy snog. “He was really angry when he saw me and really confused. I told him I had seen Professor McGonagall, so he couldn’t fault me for anything. He just told me to get out.”

“That is strange.” Harry’s left hand was supporting her back and his right hand was moving on her thigh. Ginny grabbed it and held it tight.

“In the proper time and place.” She nuzzled him. “There are children present; try to set an example.”

Two faces popped up behind them. Emma and Claire laughed and leaned over the back of the couch.

“Caught you again!” Emma said.

“We knew you’d start snogging as soon as Ginny was here,” Claire chirped.

Ginny climbed out of Harry’s lap. “Were you two waiting there? Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“What could be better than watching you snog?” Emma said.

“Say,” said Harry, “how is Zoro?”

Emma blushed and Claire giggled. “He’s fine,” Emma mumbled, and her head disappeared.

“I have an idea.” Ginny leaned over the sofa and spoke to Emma, who was lying on the floor with her hands over her head. “Let’s go name the owlets. It’s still an hour until dinner, we have plenty of time.”

Emma got to her feet and looked at Claire. “We were going to take a walk down to the lake.”

Harry and Ginny grinned at each other, and this time both twins blushed.

“Okay,” said Ginny, “we’ll do it tomorrow.”

Emma and Claire turned and dashed out the portrait hole without another word, leaving Harry and Ginny laughing.

“Let’s go out too.” Ginny pulled Harry off the sofa and pressed herself against him.

He took both her hands, held them behind her back and started kissing her. “Are you feeling better?” he said, and looked up as Dennis Creevey walked past whistling loudly and off-key.

“Yes I am, and I feel like running down to the lake. Do you think you can beat me?”

“Of course. I’ll bet you a Galleon.”

“That’s not fair. You’re rich and I’m poor. You’re just trying to take advantage of a destitute woman, down on her luck, desperate to get out of detention.”

“You are absolutely right,” Harry said as they exited the portrait hole. “So if I beat you and you can’t come up with a Galleon, what will you pay me with?”

“Good conversation.”

They continued joking until they reached the entrance hall and saw George and Angelina standing near the doors to the Great Hall; George was talking to Hector Freeman. Angelina waved when she saw them, and Harry and Ginny walked over and greeted her. George patted Hector’s back and the Ravenclaw nodded to Ginny and Harry as he left and went up the marble staircase.

George hugged Ginny and shook Harry’s hand. “How are you? I haven’t seen you since before the big raid. Word of your exploits has spread far and wide, you know. Charlie sent me a copy of a Romanian newspaper with Harry’s photo in it.”

“What are you doing here?” Ginny asked. “I thought Emma and Claire put up all your posters already.”

“The Athair twins are playing a critical and major role in the Wheezes’ juggernaut,” George proclaimed. “I can see a glorious future of Whizz-Bangs and Headless Hats stretching before them. But there’s more work to be done, and Angie and I are here to recruit a few sales wizards and witches, actually one per House. Hector there just agreed to be our Ravenclaw rep.”

He suddenly dropped his voice and leaned close to Ginny. “How is your detention going?” he said in a stage whisper. “I’ll bet Filch is being a real pig.”

Ginny gave a start and her eyes narrowed. “Did you tamper with the bugger? Is that why he didn’t show up?”

George snickered. “There wasn’t much there to tamper with. You’ll have to forgive me, Gin, but there’s no way I was going let that sod push you around for four hours.”

“I forgive you,” Ginny laughed. “But what did you do, Obliviate him?”

“Sorry, that’s a trade secret. And as long as McGonagall doesn’t ask any questions, no one need ever know.”

Ginny gave him a big hug, and also one for Angelina, who had been standing next to George grinning.

“Thanks, brother,” Ginny whispered as she hugged George again. “I knew it would be brilliant to have you living in Hogsmeade.”

They left George and Angelina and walked happily down to the lake. Emma, Claire, Sean, and Zoroaster were on the other side near the White Tomb. They sat on the sloping ground a yard or two from the water’s edge and talked about all the things that Saliyah had told them that morning. When they saw the first-years coming around the lake, they waited and walked back to the castle with them.

After dinner they made their way upstairs, and on an empty staircase threw the Invisibility Cloak over themselves. As they continued on their way, Harry’s arm was around Ginny’s waist but kept slipping down, and Ginny kept grabbing it and placing it firmly back on her waist. After several repetitions, their giggles started attracting puzzled looks from passers-by who could hear but not see them. They finally reached the corridor outside the Room of Requirement and were quickly inside.

The hushed, curtained passageway, lit with soft candlelight, seemed more inviting and romantic than ever. They looked into several chambers and found one with a large, four-poster, almost twice as big as their own bed in the flat. There was also a sideboard with trays of cut fruit, tasty-looking hors d’oeuvres, chocolates, and pastries, as well as bottles of pumpkin juice and butterbeer. Lying on the bed were two red robes and on the floor next to the bed were two pairs of fluffy red slippers in the shape of bunny rabbits. As Harry pulled the passageway curtain closed behind them, another curtain on the other side of the chamber opened; they saw an alcove with a large bathtub on clawed feet and shiny brass fittings. Steam rose from the water in the tub. A towel rack stood nearby with two thick towels, one pink, the other blue. Above the towel rack was an open cabinet with rows of bottles containing bubble bath, lotions, and shampoos.

Ginny gazed around the chamber and her eyes grew wide; she turned to Harry with a huge smile.

“Jackpot,” she whispered. She went into the bath alcove and examined the bottles in the cabinet and pressed the pink towel to her cheek. When she came back Harry pointed to the inside of the canopy; she looked up and saw a mirror above her head.

“I’ve never seen you blush like this,” Harry whispered.

“I’ve never seen a bed like this,” Ginny giggled.

It was a night to remember.


	48. Getting Better

Ginny spent most of next morning in the bubble bath, and eventually Harry joined her, bringing with him the copy of the _Sunday Prophet_ that was slipped under the curtain while they were still asleep. While playing in the tub, they heard several soft pops from the larger chamber, and when Harry went to investigate he found breakfast on the sideboard.

“I think the house-elves are doing it,” he called to Ginny. “Do you want breakfast with your bath?”

“No,” she called back. “I want breakfast in bed. Come dry me off.”

Harry willingly complied, which caused a half-hour delay in their eating breakfast but probably increased their appetites. It was Ginny’s favorite way to start the day: waking up in bed next to Harry, followed by a cheese omelet, sausages, a bowl of fresh strawberries topped with whipped cream, and piping hot coffee.

As they dressed to leave, they contemplated the coming weeks when Ginny would not be allowed off the castle grounds.

“I think I’ll concentrate on Quidditch,” she said. “I’m almost finished all my big projects, so I’ll have more free time.”

Harry smiled, happy at seeing Ginny in an upbeat mood. For the past few days she had been in the dumps, but it seemed that finding out that George had been looking out for her and discovering this cozy nest had restored her spirits.

“What is it?” Ginny asked with a smile of her own. “You have a little grin.” She came over to where he was sitting on the bed pulling on his socks and sat next to him. “This room sure did the trick, didn’t it?”

Harry looked at her eyes, her freckles, her little nose, her lips. He felt his heart filling up with her. “How is it possible to be so happy?” he said, taking her hand.

As soon as their flesh touched, he could sense the merging of themselves that sometimes happened at moments like this, and he put his arms around her. But this time, instead of seeing himself through her eyes or feeling her desire for him or sensing her happiness, it felt as if their entire bodies were about to melt together, as if they were sliding into each other, becoming one body instead of two.

They both jumped back, startled, even frightened. “Oh, my,” Ginny said breathlessly, “that was strange. What was it?”

“I don’t know.” Harry wiped sweat from his brow; suddenly the room seemed warm. He smiled nervously. “It was a little scary.”

Ginny nodded; she was staring wide-eyed at him, and laughed uneasily. “We should be careful.”

They finished dressing in silence, but did not take their eyes from each other, wondering but uncertain. They kissed—a little gingerly—and left the Room of Requirement under the Invisibility Cloak. Harry dropped Ginny off in the common room and returned to Hogsmeade. He would come back later for dinner and afterwards they would study together in the library, since they both had work to catch up on.

He stopped at The Three Broomsticks for a few minutes to talk with Rosmerta, who he hadn’t seen since the night of the ambush, and while he was catching her up, Neville, Keesha, and her parents came downstairs. Mr. and Mrs. Baker descended on Harry and wouldn’t let him out of their embraces until Keesha, embarrassed, tugged on her mother’s robes and pulled her away.

“We’re so grateful,” said her father. “We can never thank you enough, but there is one thing I would like you to permit us to do as a token of our gratitude. I don’t know if Keesha ever told you, but I own a furniture store in Diagon Alley. I’m sure you and Miss Weasley will be setting up a place of your own after your wedding, and I would be honored if you did all of your household shopping with us. There will be no charge, of course.”

“That’s not really necessary,” Harry mumbled, completely embarrassed at Mr. Baker’s generosity.

“It may not be necessary, but I want to do it. In fact, I insist.”

“That’s . . . that’s too kind, sir. I know Ginny will appreciate it.”

“You are quite welcome,” Mr. Baker smiled. “I wonder if you’ve seen the store; I know you’re in Diagon Alley fairly often.”

“I think I’ve already bought things there. Is it called Hippolite’s?”

“That’s me,” the wizard beamed. “What did you purchase?”

“Oh, some dressers, chairs and little tables, but the coolest—er, the nicest thing we got was an expanding table.”

“Ah, the blowfish model. Yes, that’s very popular. Well, I’m pleased you like it.”

They wanted Harry to eat lunch with them, but he excused himself, having had a late and large breakfast. Neville was also going to have dinner at Hogwarts with Keesha, so they made arrangements to meet there.

Harry hurried on to the Hog’s Head. There was already a large crowd, even though it was only early afternoon, and they all cheered and applauded when Harry came in.

“The drinks are on me!” grinned Tony, whose natural good humor had re-asserted itself. “Word is coming down that Turquoise Southeby will sell her house and the Ministry will pay to repair it. So guess who’s the contractor?”

Harry pumped his hand. “Glad I could drum up business for you,” he laughed. “So Turquoise is leaving Hogsmeade.” Harry took a butterbeer from Stan and walked with Tony to the table where Carlos was sitting.

“My source hasn’t told me if she’s staying or leaving,” Tony said, “but after everything that her impersonator did around here, it would be kind of difficult for her to stay.”

Harry frowned. “That’s not very fair, especially after what they did to her. Did you see how she looked? I almost didn’t recognize her.”

“You’re right, but unfortunately that’s how people are. If she came back to Hogsmeade she would be treated like a freak.”

After a few more drinks Harry went up to the flat. It felt good to be home, safe and peaceful. He walked around, looking out the windows, adjusting pictures on the walls, gazing for long moments at the photos of his parents and Sirius, thinking, hopefully, that all his troubles were behind him once and for all. Maybe he could now lounge around in the sitting room with Ginny, Ron, and Hermione and talk about Quidditch or new blue drapes with little flowers on them, instead of Dark Marks, trials, and Horcruxes. If the idiotic rumor about the seventh Horcrux could be nipped in the bud, there was a good chance that he and Ginny could really have the life they wanted.

He walked over to the picture window that overlooked the elm tree and gazed out to the distant mountains. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to be able to enjoy views like this without a single bothersome thought in his mind? If only—

There was a scratching on the casement window behind him and he turned to see McPherson perched outside on the ledge. With a cry of delight Harry bounded to the window and threw it open, almost knocking the owl off. “McPherson,” Harry crooned as the owl flew in and landed on his outstretched arm. “The owlets must not need both of you any more. It is so good to see you. Can you take a message to Ginny?”

With a loud hoot, McPherson spread his wings and hopped onto his perch. Harry gave him a handful of owl treats and dashed into the bedroom to retrieve writing materials. In a moment he had penned a short note to Ginny, just so that she would know they could now write letters to each other again. He went to the kitchen and got a small package of Chocoballs and tied the letter around it. McPherson flew off with it and Harry stood by the window watching him soar over the roofs of Hogsmeade and disappear towards the castle.

In a few minutes he was back. Harry took the message from his leg and read:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

> _Darling Harry,_
> 
> _This is so exciting to have our owls again! And you must come back to Hogwarts immediately. Professor McGonagall asked me to come to her office in half an hour, and the only reason I can think of is that she is going to cut my detention. If you can’t find me, wait in the entrance hall._
> 
> _I have also told the twins that we will go to the owlery before dinner and have the official owl naming ceremony. Hagrid will be there too._
> 
> _Harry, sweetie, I am feeling so good, especially after the night and morning we had together. I am getting warm just thinking about it. Oh my, what am I going to do when I see you? Well, it’s a problem I love to have._
> 
> _And I love you._
> 
> _Ginny_

After McPherson flew away with her letter to Harry, Ginny closed the window and went down to the entrance hall. She knew she wouldn’t be able to sit still in her room, waiting for Harry to come, and if her roommates happened to show up they would notice her fidgeting and start pestering her with questions. After a few minutes of pacing inside the great oak doors, she went outside, even though she had forgotten to bring a cloak and it was rather chilly. She stood shivering on the steps until she saw Harry coming up the curving drive and ran to meet him.

“What are you doing?” he said as he took off his cloak and wrapped it around her. “You’ll freeze to death.”

Ginny ignored his comment. “Can you believe it? She’s going to let me off, I just know it! Think about everyone who said it was unfair; I’ll bet they all talked to her. Hagrid, Madame Maxime, Kingsley Shacklebolt—”

“I don’t remember him saying anything like that,” Harry said as they entered the castle and started up the marble staircase. “Are you sure?”

“Well, that’s what he meant, I’m positive. But it doesn’t matter, it is unfair.”

Harry took her hand and squeezed it. He wasn’t sorry that this meeting would not involve him because, in fact, and despite his anger and determination to speak up for Ginny, he had not been looking forward to confronting Minerva McGonagall. Even though he believed she was wrong, or at least had overreacted, he knew how intimidating she could be with her mouth set in a thin, straight line, her nostrils flaring, and her steely eyes peering over her square spectacles. Ginny had only sketchily described the initial meeting with the Headmistress when her punishment was handed out, but Harry could easily imagine how bad it must have been.

They arrived outside the office, and Ginny gave the password—“massed bands”—and turned to Harry.

“You’ll wait? I’m nervous.”

“I’ll be right here.” He hugged her and watched as she rose up the spiral staircase. The gargoyle sprang back and the door closed.

Less than a minute later Ginny was back. “She wants you too,” she announced.

“Me? Bloody hell. Did she say why?”

“She said if you were waiting here you might as well come up. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking. I hope this doesn’t mean she’s still being hard-nosed.”

Harry was both reluctant and glad. He was not happy to be facing the Headmistress, but he was happy that he could now be at Ginny’s side. They ascended the staircase and found the office door open; they entered and took the two chairs in front of the large desk.

Professor McGonagall was peering at them over her spectacles; her mouth was in a thin, straight line, but her nostrils were not flaring, yet. As they waited for her to speak, Harry noticed that Professor Dumbledore was not in his portrait.

“Good day, Mr. Potter,” she began. “When I realized that you were waiting downstairs I asked Miss Weasley to fetch you. Thank you for coming.”

A small gray tabby cat jumped up onto the desk and sat in front of the Professor; it gazed at Harry and Ginny for a moment and began cleaning its hindquarters. McGonagall slid the cat aside as her eyes assumed a steely cast.

“I am not pleased with either of you,” she began. “I have no jurisdiction over you, Mr. Potter, but I do note that over the course of this past school year you have spent a great deal of time in the castle. While that does not give me legal authority, it does, I maintain, give me a measure of moral authority. I will state it bluntly. I know that you helped Miss Weasley leave the castle four days ago in an unknown manner, even though you knew that the castle grounds were sealed on my orders.”

Her words angered Harry and he lost whatever nervousness he had come in with. She did not have “moral authority” over him; he had done enough service to Hogwarts to give _him_ authority.

“I know that, Professor,” he said in a clipped voice, “but we had a very good reason. There was no doubt in my mind that Keesha Baker’s life was at stake. I don’t know how much of the story you know, but Ginny and I were the only people who had a chance to save her.”

“Yes yes, Mr. Potter,” she said brusquely. “I am aware of that now, but I was not aware of it on Friday when I imposed punishment on Miss Weasley, and I don’t know that it would have made any difference.”

“But I tried to tell you!” Ginny exclaimed. “You wouldn’t listen.”

McGonagall’s nostril’s flared. “Let me try to explain, again, the seriousness of what you did. First, there is a rule that no student may leave the grounds without permission except at designated times, such as Hogsmeade weekends. As I’m sure you recall, even at those times we keep close track of which students leave the castle. Seventh-years who have reached their majority are allowed the freedom to do as they please on weekends, and you have taken full advantage of that privilege, Miss Weasley.”

“You call it a privilege,” Ginny said hotly, “but I’m an adult, and I think I’ve proven my judgment, several times in fact.”

McGonagall’s eyes resumed a steely cast, and now her eyebrows arched. “We’ll discuss your judgment in a moment. Regardless, you knew what the rule was, and you broke it, for the third time this year. Does that not indicate a certain desire to flaunt your disobedience?”

“I never flaunted anything!” Ginny’s face was flushed, but the Headmistress ignored her and continued.

“Now we come to the issue of your judgment, and the real reason for my decision to give you such a lengthy punishment. You knew, Miss Weasley, that the school was sealed. I took that action in large part because of what happened to you and your friends. You came within a few inches of being blinded or even killed.

“Once I had all the facts in hand concerning the incident in the lane, I did not even then decide on my own to seal the school. I consulted my teaching colleagues, the Minister for Magic, the school’s Board of Governors, and even your parents who happened to be here at the time. All the advice I got was of one mind, the school must be protected at all cost.”

She paused and pressed her lips together. As she continued her eyes flashed. “Do you have any idea, Miss Weasley—and you too, Mr. Potter—how difficult it has been to keep this school open and running on a remarkably normal footing, given the events of the two prior years? Do you know how close we came to cancelling this year? Do you know how expensive it was to repair the castle and grounds in time for the opening last summer?”

She sat back and took a breath. “I don’t expect you to be aware of any of those things; it is not your place or your problem. But what you did has opened up all those questions again. I have heard from the Board and from parents, wondering how secure Hogwarts is if a student could so easily evade the seals that Professor Flitwick created.

“I would think, Miss Weasley, that if you decided to break a rule in a way that threatened the security of the school, you would demonstrate the intelligence, and exercise the judgment of someone who was thinking carefully about such things. You did nothing of the kind, even though there is no doubt that you do possess that intelligence and judgment.”

Harry glanced at Ginny. Her lower lip was trembling, and he knew she was fighting tears with all her might. He turned to the Headmistress.

“Tell me, Professor, if Ginny had come to you and told you that she had to leave the school in order to save Keesha, would you have let her go?”

McGonagall looked at him steadily. “I don’t know the answer to that for certain. But I would have given her the same harangue I gave just now. If she had gone despite that, I think I would have felt differently than I do now, because I would have assumed it was for a reason whose urgency outweighed the safety of Hogwarts. But I emphasize the fact that I knew no such thing.”

Neither Harry nor Ginny spoke. Harry glanced at her again; she was looking at the cat who had finished her ablutions and was now stretched out on the desk, asleep. Ginny’s eyes flitted to his and he was not surprised to see her blazing look; he wondered how often, if ever, Professor McGonagall had seen it.

“Ginny left the castle with me,” Harry said. “I got in and we left together by Disapparating with a house-elf.”

McGonagall nodded. “I suspected as much, and so did Professor Flitwick. Unfortunately there isn’t much that can be done about it. We have referred the matter to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and I believe they may have referred it to the Department of Mysteries.” She heaved a heavy sigh. “In a way, you did us a favor by showing how easily it can be done.”

She paused and looked at the sleeping cat. Harry and Ginny exchanged glances again, and Harry detected a slight upturn at the corners of Ginny’s mouth.

McGonagall sighed again. “Believe me, Miss Weasley, this is not how I wanted you to end your career at Hogwarts. No one is more aware than I am of everything you did last year, of the risks you took. If you give me your solemn word that you will not knowingly violate any more rules, I will mitigate your punishment. Will you give me your word?”

“Yes, ma’am, I promise,” Ginny said quietly.

“Very well. You will not have to serve any further detentions, and you will be restricted to the castle grounds for one more week only, until Monday next. Do you have any questions?”

“No.”

“And I have a request to make of you, Mr. Potter. Can you make your house-elf available to Professor Flitwick for questioning about his Apparitions into the castle?”

“I can’t order him, Professor. He’s been free since Christmas. I’ll ask him, but I don’t know what his answer will be.”

She smiled wryly. “You specialize in freeing elves, don’t you?”

The Headmistress stood, followed by Ginny, Harry, and the cat. The professor and the cat watched them leave.

“We have to tell George,” Ginny whispered as they made their way to Gryffindor Tower. “I don’t want him to think he has to mess with Filch again.”

“He’ll be disappointed,” Harry observed. “So . . .” He paused as they stood outside the portrait hole. “What do you think about what McGonagall said?”

Ginny frowned as she gave the password; inside, they sat on a couch under a window; Ginny still wore her frown.

“I thought she was trying to put a lot of responsibility on me for things I didn’t do. It was Riddle who attacked the castle, not me. It was Malfoy who let the Death Eaters in the year before, not me. Umbridge and those Death Eaters attacked _us_ , not the other way around.”

“So you don’t think we could have got you out of the castle without stirring up all this?”

“What do you mean, all this?” Ginny looked at him angrily. “McGonagall seems to have forgotten all about Keesha. Are you forgetting her too?”

“Gin, I was as guilty as you were, I wanted—”

“What do you mean, guilty? I don’t feel guilty about anything. Why are you taking her side?”

“I’m not taking her side, I’m just saying—”

Ginny stood; her eyes were ablaze and she pointed her finger at Harry. “You’re saying that I shouldn’t have gone to see my brother, who needed me? You’re saying we should have left Keesha to rot in that cellar? Maybe next time you should go by yourself, isn’t that what—”

She abruptly stopped and looked away, breathing hard. Harry had also stood; he took her hand, but she pulled it away.

“All I’m saying,” he said calmly, “is that McGonagall had a point. And I’m not blaming you, for Merlin’s sake. I helped you get out, I wanted you to get out. If Pansy hadn’t shown up, none of this would have happened. Ginny, I _wanted_ you to be there, that’s why you came to the inn from Zonko’s. You felt it, and you came.”

Ginny glanced at him and held out her hand. “I’m sorry,” she said as Harry took it. “I didn’t mean that; I shouldn’t have said it.”

Harry sat again and pulled Ginny onto the couch; they sat holding hands. “I’m just saying that in hindsight, maybe we could have done it differently,” he said.

“I suppose.” Ginny leaned back against the cushion and sighed.

The door to the girls’ stairwell flew open and Emma and Claire bounded into the common room. They saw Harry and Ginny and came running over.

“It’s time to name the owlets!” Emma cried, and started to pull Harry off the sofa. Claire did the same with Ginny, and Ginny grinned at Harry.

“Sounds like a good idea,” she said. “But let’s get Hagrid first.”

“We already sent Brian to get him,” said Claire. “We told him to meet us in the owlery.”

“Who is Brian?” Harry asked Ginny as they followed the twins out the portrait hole.

Ginny chuckled. “Brian Hancock. He’s a first-year. It sounds like the twins are using him as a messenger.”

“Don’t worry, Hagrid will be there,” Emma assured them. “Brian is very reliable.”

Harry and Ginny exchanged smiles, and Harry took her hand as they walked. Their little tiff was over, and he hoped that she understood that he was not taking sides against her. He had learned, from watching the Weasley family in action, that it didn’t matter who you thought was right or wrong, you simply did not take sides against someone in the family. It wasn’t something he was used to, but he had to admit that he liked it.

He felt pressure on his hand and knew, without looking, that Ginny was smiling. A wave of emotion washed over him. Once again, as in the Room of Requirement that morning, it almost seemed that there was only one hand where a moment ago there were two. They both dropped their hand, startled by the bizarre feeling.

The twins, a few feet ahead, were chattering to each other. Emma held the list of names in her hand which they were going over as they climbed the stairs to the owlery.

Claire pointed to the list. “I still don’t like this one. It’s an owl, not a cup of coffee.”

“It’s like a color or a flavor,” Emma retorted. “It matches the color of the one that nipped your ear. That’s why you don’t like it, but it’s your own fault for laughing at its name.”

“I didn’t laugh, I snorted.”

“Same difference to an owl. You should be more polite.”

The debate continued until they entered the owlery. Hagrid was already there, surrounded by a cloud of owlets circling and soaring over his head. Bailey was perched on his right shoulder and McPherson on his left.

“Here yeh are!” he boomed. “I got yer message an’ came as quick as I could. Bailey here’s all set too. It’s a very important moment fer owls,” he said seriously to Harry and Ginny.

Bailey gave a chirp and the owlets landed on Hagrid’s outstretched arms. Harry and Ginny looked around, startled, as the entire owlery fell silent; every owl in the room was now peering at them.

Hagrid self-consciously cleared his throat; he couldn’t move his arms, as each one had three owlets perched on it.  “Give the list to Ginny,” he said to Emma, who handed it over.

“What do I do?” Ginny said. “How do I know which name goes with which owl?”

“They’ll know when yeh call the name out. Jus’ do it nice and clear so the babies don’t get confused.”

Ginny cleared her throat too, and held the list up. “Okay, here goes. Peanut!”

The smallest owl, very light brown with dark brown circles around its eyes, gave a little screech; it flew once around Ginny’s head and alighted again on Hagrid’s arm. Bailey hooted twice and flapped her wings; there were a few calls from the watching owls.

“Peanut’s a girl,” Hagrid announced and beamed down his arm at her.

“How do you know that?” Emma asked.

“‘Cause Bailey welcomed her. If it’s a boy, that’s what McPherson will do. Okay, Ginny, next name.”

“Mocha!” Ginny cried, and another light brown owlet screeched and cruised around Ginny’s head but, to everyone’s surprise, instead of returning to Hagrid, it flew to Claire’s shoulder and settled there. It gave her ear a nibble, and Claire shrieked and reached up to stroke Mocha’s head.

“She likes me!” she grinned at Hagrid.

McPherson hooted loudly. “Yeh mean he likes yeh,” Hagrid said. “Yeh got yerself an owl, Emma.”

“I’m Claire, she’s Emma.” Claire held up her arm and Mocha hopped along it until he was perched on her wrist; he settled down and gazed at her, blinking several times.

“Do you think Mum and Dad will let me keep him?” she asked Emma.

Emma looked disgruntled, so Ginny called out, “Rosie!”

This time a russet-hued owlet flew around Ginny and, as she had hoped, went to Emma who stretched out her arm.

“Rosie!” she said with a big smile as Bailey hooted.

“There yeh go,” said Hagrid. “Yer both set.”

While the twins compared owls, Ginny called out, “Valentine!” A dark brown owlet with a heart-shaped pattern on its back circled her head and returned to Hagrid’s arm; Bailey hooted and flapped her wings. Ginny quickly named the last two, Athena and Orion. After McPherson had hooted once for his second son, the entire owlery suddenly filled with a deafening cacophony of hoots, screeches, squawks, yelps, and chirps, as every owl greeted the newcomers. Harry, Ginny, and the twins covered their ears and grinned at each other.

“Shut it!” Hagrid bellowed above the racket. He lifted his arms and Bailey, McPherson, and the four owlets flew up to their nest near the rafters. As the owl chorus subsided, Emma and Claire’s new owls each gave them a peck on the cheek and also flew back to the nest.

The humans walked out into the peace and quiet of the stairwell. The twins danced around, unable to contain their excitement. “We’ve got owls!” Emma sang. “Now we can send messages to Zoro and Sean.”

“How is that?” Harry said with a grin. “They live in the dungeons under the Black Lake.”

“Oh.” Emma stopped dancing and considered. “Well, at least we’ve got owls. I just hope Mum and Dad don’t throw a fit.”

“You can always leave them here,” Ginny said as they descended the stairs. The twins didn’t seem to like that idea, and they began discussing how to persuade their parents to let them keep the owls at home. When they reached the bottom of the stairs they ran off towards Gryffindor Tower.

Harry, Ginny, and Hagrid watched them go. “That was special,” Harry said. “I never thought that naming owls would be so dramatic.”

Ginny looked up at the gamekeeper. “Hagrid, can I ask you something about the detentions I got?”

He glanced at her but didn’t seem to want to make eye contact. “Er, well, yeah. I don’t know much about it, of course. Perfessor McGonagall was the one who decided.”

“Did you and Madame Maxime talk to her about letting me off?”

“Ginny, yeh shouldn’ ask questions like that.” He stroked his beard and gazed at her. “Just accept what happened. A lot of people didn’t like how long she was makin’ yeh stay inside the grounds. Let’s jus’ say that yeh had friends.”

Ginny smiled. “Thanks, Hagrid. I was just wondering.” Hagrid made dismissive noises and waved his hand at Ginny.

The gamekeeper returned to his cabin, and Harry and Ginny decided to skip studying and take advantage of the sunny weather, even if it was a little nippy. They wrapped their cloaks tightly, walked down to the Black Lake and sat on a bench, soaking up the sun and savoring their laziness. They returned to the castle for dinner—the Great Hall was all abuzz over the owlets’ names—and had a good time with Neville, Keesha, and Luna, who sat with them at the Gryffindor table. They spent three hours studying together in the library and said goodnight in the common room. McPherson was waiting for Harry at the flat, and, for the first time in months, love letters flew back and forth long into the night.

# # # #

Ginny decided to begin a heavy schedule of Quidditch practices. She knew that the team would be rusty, but she was also thinking about the Harpies’ scouts who would be in the stadium for the next two matches. She wanted to make a good impression, not only with her flying and Seeker skills, but also with her coaching. She asked Ron to be at Hogwarts every Saturday morning, if possible, to help Dennis. He told her that he would even try to come up during the week for evening practices as soon as it was light enough.

On Monday she told Harry about her plans, and on Tuesday evening Harry owled her that Sagittaria Slocum’s funeral was to be held the next day at a wizard cemetery just outside London.

Ginny wrote back:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

> _It doesn’t seem fair, but I don’t see how I can go to McGonagall and ask her to let me go to the funeral. I am so sorry, especially since I was really looking forward to meeting Mrs. Wilson. Maybe we can have tea with her later in the spring at the inn she told you about._
> 
> _We had Quidditch practice this afternoon, and Dennis was dreadful. Fortunately the Chasers, especially Demelza, are flying really great. I think we will demolish Hufflepuff, but don’t tell Keesha I said that._
> 
> _I love you so much, and now that it’s only three months until the end of term, I am getting more and more excited about our wedding and being with you forever and ever. Did I say that I love you? Yes, I see that I did but I can’t say it enough._
> 
> _I love you._
> 
> _Ginny_

Harry had not used the Bouquedelle for months, but something about the expression of this letter broke down his resistance. He went into the bedroom and took it from the top drawer of his dresser and pressed it to his lips. He was overcome with dizziness as Ginny’s sweet, flowery fragrance enveloped him, and he sat on their bed, his head spinning, tears pouring down his face, and he knew that Ginny was completely aware of everything that was happening to him.

The next morning he packed his dress robes along with his textbooks. After their first class the staff and students changed into their dress robes and boarded a bus chartered by the Ministry from the company that ran the Knight Bus, and traveled to the village of Highgate north of town. There, in the Muggle park of Hampstead Heath, magically hidden in a small wood next to a large pond, was the wizard graveyard known as Roadstart. They filed off the bus and joined the solemn throng at graveside.

The first people Harry saw that he knew were Ginny’s parents. They were standing with Andromeda Tonks and the Diggorys, and Molly smiled and waved. Harry and Ron walked over.

Molly hugged them and wiped a tear. “We knew that Ginny couldn’t come, but we understand.”

“We still want to have you both over for dinner,” Arthur said as he shook Harry’s hand. “And of course Ron and Hermione.”

Harry and Ron exchanged glances. Amos Diggory put his hand on Harry’s shoulder for a moment. “It’s been four years, hasn’t it, my boy. Sometimes it seems like yesterday, and sometimes it seems like forever.” Harry didn’t know what to say, so he nodded and looked at his shoes.

“We just found out that you and Ginny are to be married,” Mrs. Diggory said; she was a kindly woman, Harry remembered, and he smiled at her.

“In July.” He looked at Molly. “I guess I don’t know the exact date, but I expect to be there.”

Everyone chuckled, and Molly’s tears began to flow copiously. “July 17, dear, two weeks before your birthday.”

“Ah. Does Ginny know?”

Mrs. Weasley sniffed and glanced at her husband. “Well, probably not, since we were going to discuss it last Saturday, but you never came to dinner.”

“We’ll send an owl as soon as we get home,” Arthur said quickly. “I’m sure she’ll be happy with the date.”

Harry turned to Andromeda before Molly could say anything. “How is Teddy? I’ll get over to see you as soon as the summer break starts, I promise.”

“He’s fine, Harry. And I’ve told you, don’t worry about it. Come when you can, you and Ginny are always welcome.”

As they stood and talked for a few more minutes, Harry glanced around and saw more wizards and witches walking through the woods towards the grave. He nudged Ron. “How do the Muggles not notice this? There must be hundreds of people here.”

“Good question,” Ron said. “I guess there’s some pretty powerful magic going on.”

Harry now noticed that a small, low platform had been erected next to the grave, behind which the coffin lay, and now he saw Kingsley, Saliyah, Sagittaria’s mother, and another Auror step up onto it. A hush fell as the Minister for Magic stepped forward. He looked over the crowd and began, speaking about fighting for what was good in the world, about the tragedy of dying in that fight, and about not letting sacrifices like Sagittaria’s be in vain. He talked about the influence on the dead Auror of her mother Mary, who he counted as one of his best friends.

Saliyah Ushujaa spoke, and as her eulogy continued, tears streamed down her face. She spoke about dedication, professionalism, and heroism. She was followed by the other Auror on the platform, who Harry had seen in Hogsmeade after the ambush and Sagittaria’s death. He spoke about friendship and support in times of danger.

The ceremony was not long. The coffin was lowered into the grave and the dirt shoveled on.

Harry stayed on the edges of the crowd as people milled about, greeting each other and offering condolences to Mrs. Wilson. He wandered around the cemetery, looking at gravestones, peering through the trees to a Muggle motorway a few hundred yards away; automobiles and large lorries sped by, and he wondered if they could see him.

He heard footsteps and turned. “They can’t see you,” Sagittaria’s mother said. “There are probably people a few yards from us who are completely unaware of our presence.”

“How are you, Mrs. Wilson?”

“I’ve been better, thank you.”

“I’m sorry, I—”

“Harry,” she smiled her soft, tranquil smile, “don’t worry yourself. I know how you feel.”

“Sure,” he mumbled, and looked at her. “Ginny is really sorry she can’t be here. She had to stay in school. She wants to meet you though.”

Mrs. Wilson looked around; there were only a few people nearby and they were engrossed in their own conversations. She moved closer to Harry and took his arm.

“I would like to meet her too, but not simply because she is your fiancée, although that’s quite a good enough reason.”

At first Harry was puzzled; for a moment he couldn’t imagine what she meant. “Because of Elizabeth Derby?” he finally guessed.

She smiled again; whenever she did so it seemed to Harry that a quiet calmness had fallen on the earth and had wrapped him in its peacefulness. He smiled back.

“Not exactly because of Elizabeth,” she replied, and for the first time since Harry had met her she almost lost her composure; she coughed, but continued. “It’s been almost nine months since I last saw my two sons. Perhaps you met them the day after the battle at Hogwarts. Ginny showed them where Elizabeth had . . . had died.”

Her grip on Harry’s arm tightened; she bowed her head and began to weep silently. After a moment she shook her head and looked at Harry. “I can hold it in for my daughter, but not my granddaughter. Her grandfather, my second husband, had veela blood, and she was remarkably beautiful.”

“Yes, I remember her from school.” Harry hesitated; he wasn’t sure why this gentle woman was talking to him like this, and he was afraid to say certain things for fear of making her pain worse. But he suddenly felt a need to tell her what he had talked about to no one except Ginny.

“I saw Elizabeth after she had been hurt,” he said, and Mrs. Wilson’s eyes grew wide. “I walked past Ginny that night when she was trying to . . . to comfort her. I didn’t know at the time that it was Elizabeth.”

Incongruously, Mrs. Wilson smiled, and moved her hand from Harry’s arm to his own hand. “Harry, that is remarkable. Of course I’ve heard about where you were going that night, and what you did, but I never connected it to Ginny. And you kept on walking. That must have been extraordinarily difficult.”

“Well, I didn’t mean to . . . the thing is, I survived but Elizabeth didn’t. A lot of people didn’t.”

“You must not put that on yourself. You were meant to live because only you could end it. If you had not, more Elizabeths would have suffered the way mine did.”

She looked around again and moved closer to Harry. “I have word from my sons that they may try to contact Ginny. I know you and she must do the right thing, but please be careful.”

Harry stared at her in surprise. She put her hand on his cheek for a moment, turned, and walked away.

As soon as she was gone Ron came over; he had been watching from a distance. “What is it, mate?” he asked. “Is everything okay?”

Harry told him what Mrs. Wilson had said about her sons, but Ron was still puzzled. “Why would they contact Ginny?”

“If they want to turn themselves in, maybe they figure she can help them. I don’t see how, though.”

“If that’s what they want to do, then it makes some sense, actually. They know her and they must know that she’s connected to you.”

“Maybe. I wish people wouldn’t think about me like that, but it seems like it’s inevitable.”

Soon after, they boarded the bus and returned to London. It was the middle of the afternoon, and as they were arriving at the Ministry Percy announced that they were being dismissed early. Ron decided to go to Hogsmeade with Harry since Ginny was holding another Quidditch practice. In the village, Ron borrowed a broom from Madam Rosmerta and they hurried to the Quidditch stadium, where they could see the Gryffindor players zipping through their drills. As they watched, Dennis let in two quick goals.

Ron shook his head. “He’s hopeless. He’s making every mistake I pointed out to him last fall. Ginny had better be good or else they’ll lose.”

Ginny had seen them and was waiting when they walked onto the pitch. She kissed Harry and told Ron to fly up to the goal where Dennis was weaving back and forth in front of the hoops.

“He’s hopeless,” Ginny said to Harry. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Catch the Snitch in the first fifteen seconds,” Harry grinned.

“That’s what I’m hoping for. How was the funeral?”

Harry told her about his conversation with Mary Wilson. Ginny was as puzzled as Ron had been. “Why would they come to me if they want to surrender? All I did was talk to them.”

Harry couldn’t give her an answer. Instead, he asked, “Do you mind if I stay and watch? I promise not to say anything.”

“Not at all,” Ginny smiled. “In fact, I wouldn’t mind if you did say something to Jimmy, he’s being a real pain in the ass today.”

Harry climbed up to the Gryffindor section and sat in the top row. The drills continued, and he marveled at Ginny’s fluid flying, her quick turns and acceleration. Her Chasers executed passing drills and criss-cross flying maneuvers with great precision.

The Beaters, however, were clearly unhappy with Dennis. Ron had placed himself about fifteen feet above the goals and shouted instructions and encouragement to the hapless Keeper as each wave of attackers approached. Harry noted that the Beaters were always in perfect position to help take away the attack angles, but the only save Dennis made was when Will Reynolds’ Bludger caught Frances Spangler’s elbow as she was about to shoot, and the Quaffle hit Dennis squarely between the eyes.

As the rest of the team helped him slowly and woozily circle to the ground, Jimmy flew a circuit around the stadium and stopped in front of Harry. He pointed to the hoops.

“Did you see that? You need to talk to Ginny, knock some sense into her and get us another Keeper.”

“What the hell does that mean, knock some sense into her?” Harry stood and pointed at Jimmy. “If you think _you_ can do that, be my guest, but I suggest you send your obituary to the _Daily Prophet_ first.”

Jimmy backed away a few feet. “I didn’t mean it that way, Harry. I just meant that she screwed up getting us a Keeper, and I thought you could talk to her.”

“What, do I look like a coach? Listen, Peakes, she’s the captain, it’s her team, and if you ask me, she’s doing the best job of coaching I’ve ever seen. If you don’t like it, either quit or shut the hell up.”

Jimmy scowled but didn’t reply. He pulled away and dove to join the rest of the team, which was gathered on the pitch around Dennis. Harry could see that Ginny was pointing her wand at his nose while Demelza held a blood-soaked towel under it. After a few minutes the team took to the air again and Ginny flew up to Harry.

“What was that about?” she asked.

“Nothing. The bloody git wanted me to talk to you about Dennis. I told him to either quit the team or shut up.”

Ginny grinned. “I tell him that all the time, but he doesn’t do either one.” She blew him a kiss and flew back to the goal hoops.

Ron was talking with Dennis, and Ginny joined them and gestured to the rest of the team to take up their positions. This time, Frances got off a clean shot, and everyone cheered when Dennis made the save. The little Keeper held the Quaffle above his head with a huge grin. Ron dropped down and clapped him on the back, as did the rest of the team except Jimmy.

The drill resumed, and Dennis continued to make saves. He wasn’t perfect, but something seemed to have happened to make him more confident, and with Ron’s help he was able to save about half the shots against him. After practice Harry went back down to the pitch; Ginny was in the dressing room with the team while Harry and Ron waited for her.

“It turns out that the kid was petrified the whole time,” Ron said. “That whole cocky thing was just an act, a front. When he got smacked with the Quaffle, he realized that it wouldn’t kill him, and bingo! he wasn’t scared anymore. He’s not a Weasley, but he should be an adequate Keeper now.”

“Well, good job, mate,” Harry laughed. “Your coaching skills have done the trick.”

The team came out, Dennis sporting two black eyes which he refused to let Ginny treat, and they trooped back to the castle in a jolly mood, even Jimmy. Ron and Harry decided to stay for dinner, where Dennis’s two shiners were the main topic, supplanting the owls. The entire team basked in the attention, especially Dennis, and when word started to spread that he had actually made some saves, excitement grew and Gryffindors started casting significant glances at the Hufflepuff table.

Ron returned to Diagon Alley after dinner, but Harry stayed and went to the library with Ginny; he found a book on the history of the Auror department and read while Ginny studied. He returned to the inn after an interlude with her in an out-of-the-way corner of the entrance hall, and soon the airways between Gryffindor Tower and The Hog’s Head Inn were once again abuzz with owl traffic, love letters, and packets of Honeydukes goodies.

# # # #

The weather turned warm as though the storm that had accompanied the ambush in the lane had been winter’s dying gasp. After Ginny’s last day of confinement to the castle grounds, she and Harry started spending more time on weekends at the Burrow, often arriving late Saturday morning after Quidditch practice and staying overnight until Sunday afternoon. Harry slept in Ron’s room under strict enforcement of Ginny’s “house rule,” but Ginny was often up late making wedding plans with her mother and Fleur, who had a knack for these things.

“Ze entire focus of ze entire day must be on you,” she declared to Ginny one Sunday in the middle of April; she, Ginny, Molly, Hermione, and Angelina were browsing catalogs and portfolios of wedding gowns, bridesmaids’ dresses, floral arrangements, and marquee decorations. “Zese flower girl dresses are too flashy, zey will make everyone look at zem and not at you.”

“But they’re so cute!” Ginny said. “The twins will look gorgeous in them.” Molly frowned slightly; she was still pushing for Prewett cousins as flower girls, but Ginny had absolutely insisted on Emma and Claire.

“Zey are allowed to look gorgeous, but not too gorgeous,” Fleur said. She leafed through a few more pages. “Voila! Zis one is perfect. Everyone will ooh and aah when zey come down ze aisle, but when you appear, Ginny . . .” She picked up a portfolio of wedding gowns and turned to the one Ginny had chosen. “Ravishing, demure, beautiful, fetching, both attainable and unattainable. I don’t know ‘ow you do it wizout being veela.”

Ginny laughed and blushed. “I’ll settle for married. Now what about the ring bearer?”

Ginny had chosen George to hold the rings during the ceremony. He had given her a hug when she asked him to do it, and had unsuccessfully tried to hide the tears that followed. There was some discussion about what he should wear, however. Ginny wanted Harry and his best man Ron to wear Muggle tuxedos instead of dress robes, and now she wondered if George would look strange standing next to them wearing robes. She and Fleur thought yes, but Molly thought no; Hermione was uncharacteristically undecided, and Angelina was diplomatically neutral.

They debated until Arthur, Harry, Ron, George, and Bill walked into the parlor. They had gone into the village so that Arthur could ask a local Muggle acquaintance about the millennium bug he had been concerned about earlier in the year. Hermione had told him that it was a software bug and not at all contagious, but he was skeptical, and insisted on asking a Muggle expert.

Ron rolled his eyes at Hermione when they came in. “Total embarrassment. The bloke didn’t stop laughing until we were out of his shop and halfway home.”

“I still don’t understand it,” said his father grumpily as he sat down in an easy chair and picked up a copy of the _Prophet_. “Why do they call it a bug if it’s not contagious?” He opened the paper and covered his face with it.

“Well, Dad, ” Ginny consoled him, “at least you don’t have to quarantine your pomcuters out in the shed.” Arthur rattled the newspaper but didn’t respond.

Soon it was dinnertime, and afterwards the family scattered back to their homes. Harry and Ginny Floo’d to their flat and Harry immediately began a rather heavy snog.

“Someone is desperate,” Ginny giggled a few minutes later as they rolled around on the red rug. “But I think we can help him out.”

She made it back to the castle with only a few minutes to spare.

# # # #

The following Saturday was the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff Quidditch match, and Ginny was becoming nervous again. It had been a long time since the Slytherin match, and she was afraid that she would not be able to equal the impression she had made on the professional scouts. Harry tried to be encouraging in the letters they exchanged every night, but Ginny’s nerves got worse as the weekend drew nearer.

She wanted him to come to the castle early in the morning on the day of the match and stay with her until the team went to the stadium, but on Thursday afternoon at his daily Mentor’s meeting with Saliyah, the Auror told him that they would be leaving for France on Friday afternoon and staying until Sunday. The French wizarding government had requested a meeting on Saturday to discuss some of the issues that had arisen when Dolores Umbridge fled to their country and had been pursued by agents of the British Ministry of Magic.

“Is there any way we can do it on a different day?” Harry asked.

Saliyah frowned. “Of course not. _They_ are asking us to come, and I’m damn happy they finally agreed to meet. I’m sorry if this interferes with plans you made, but it’s part of the job, Harry.” She smiled. “I promise that nothing will happen on your wedding day or the following week. That’s when you’re taking your honeymoon, isn’t it?”

“The next two weeks.”

“Okay, the next two weeks. But I’m afraid we have no choice about this weekend.”

Harry knew how badly Ginny was going to take this; he wasn’t taking it too well himself. “It’s the Hufflepuff match. Ginny wanted me to be with her; she’s nervous about the impression she’ll make on the scouts.”

“Posh.” Saliyah waved her hand in the air. “She’s as good as made the Harpies already.”

“I agree, but she’s still nervous, and I wanted to be with her.”

The Auror gazed at him. “You’ve chosen a career that can get in the way of normal life, Harry. It has its rewards, but it also has its responsibilities, and things like this are one of them.”

“Yeah, I know,” he sighed. “I do like to watch her fly.”

“I also have some good news, or at least it’s not bad news.” She turned and picked up a folder from the table behind her desk and handed it to Harry. Across the front was written, _H Rumours_ , and underneath it in large red letters, _Completely and Absolutely Secret_. Saliyah spoke while Harry read the parchment inside. “We have not detected a single whisper about Horcruxes anywhere except in Azkaban. Since we can’t prove a negative, this doesn’t mean that a rumor does not exist. But we’re pretty good at detecting things floating around like that, so I can say that, as of right now, it’s not very likely that the rumor has spread beyond Azkaban.”

Harry nodded. “And what about the rumors inside?”

“We’ve planted counter-rumors, to coin a term. We’ll see what happens in a couple of months, but I’m pretty confident that you’re okay. We will still keep a guard in Hogsmeade, though.”

“Will you keep on listening, I mean outside of Azkaban?”

“Yes, Kingsley saw this and he asked me not to close the case yet.”

“I was wondering,” Harry said slowly, “what were those ‘ideas’ he mentioned about stopping the rumors?”

“I was wondering when you would ask me that. I don’t know what he meant; he hasn’t said anything because he hasn’t had to. I have my suspicions, though: Obliviate.”

“He would do that to stop a rumor about me?”

“But it’s not just about you. We do not want people to start speculating about Horcruxes. I thought we made that clear.”

“You did. I was surprised, that’s all.”

“Understandable. Well,” she glanced at the clock. “It’s still a little early, but why don’t you get back to Hogsmeade. I think you want to talk to Ginny.”

Harry arrived at the castle with the Marauder’s Map in hand and found Ginny in the library working on her last big term project, an analysis of the potentials of Amortentia. She gave him a delighted smile when he dropped into the chair next to her, kissed him, and closed the large, musty volume she was reading; the title was embossed in pink and entwined with a design of roses: _Sensations of Love: Using Amortentia_. “I found this in the restricted section, and now you’re here. It’s my lucky day. I found out how they make Bouquedelles, in case you’re interested.”

“Hon, I need to tell you something. Let’s go someplace.”

“Oh, okay.” She returned the volume and Harry gathered up her belongings. They went back to the common room and Harry put the load of textbooks and parchments on a table. They sat on a couch.

“I can’t be here on Saturday,” he said, and Ginny’s face fell. “I’m sorry, I really don’t like this, but I have to go to France on Friday with Saliyah. We’re staying till Sunday.”

“France? What’s in France?” She was scowling fiercely.

“The French wizarding government wants to talk to us about what happened when Umbridge was there.”

“And they need you?”

Harry shrugged. “I asked her if we could do it another time, but that’s impossible. I’m sorry, Gin, I wanted to be with you.”

“Yeah.” She sighed, but after a moment of thought she smiled. “I guess I’ll have to get used to being married to the Head Auror. We’ll just have to figure out a way to be together even when we’re apart.”

“What do you mean? How can we do that?”

She took his face in her hands. “Love, I feel like you’re with me most of the time, so why can’t it be all the time?”

“But we’ll be hundreds of miles apart.”

“So? Do you remember when Saliyah told you that she wanted you to become Head Auror, and when you got home I told you I knew something big had happened?”

“Yes, but—”

“I was at the Burrow and you were in London. That’s about a hundred and fifty miles. And last summer I knew every time you were coming home from Hogsmeade, and that’s hundreds of miles.”

Harry considered, and he too, smiled. “Okay, let’s do it, but I’m still going to miss being at the match.”

Ginny put her arms around his neck. “And be warned, Potter, I’m not going to let you marry me long distance. If you do that, you can also do a long distance honeymoon.”

“No,” Harry said in dead seriousness, “Saliyah already said she wouldn’t plan anything for the wedding or the honeymoon.”

“Harry! I’m joking. I know you wouldn’t do that.”

As they snogged on the couch, Harry marveled, as he had done so often, at the love and acceptance this bewitching woman had for him. Life was good, and getting better.


	49. Le Ministère de la Magie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two friends and one very published author get credits for chapter 49. Anne-Virginie T. suggested what kind of marquee Ginny should have at her wedding, and she edited the chapter to make sure I hadn’t said anything outlandish about France, corrected my French, and told me the names of the French wizarding government departments. Jim L. told me about the European law enforcement agency, Intermagic, that he created. The reference by Bill Weasley to “means and ends” comes from _The Dispossessed_ , by Ursula K. Leguin. It’s possible that he read the book; he seems like the type who would enjoy it.

On Friday afternoon, with his bags packed for France, Harry went to the Head Auror’s office and from there he, Laura, and Saliyah took a lift to Level One. Kingsley was waiting in his office and, to Harry’s surprise, Bill Weasley was with him.

Bill grinned at Harry. “Voici ton interprète,” he announced, spreading his arms wide.

“What?” Harry couldn’t help grinning back; whatever Bill had said, Harry assumed it meant that he would be coming with them.

“Your interpreter, at your service,” said Bill, nodding to the others.

“Très bien, or something like that,” said Kingsley with a smile, ushering everyone to seats around a table. “Let’s get started, shall we? I’d like you all to leave for Paris as soon as possible. First, everyone needs to be clear about why you are going and what you need to accomplish.

“The person in charge of this mission is Saliyah. She is carrying my full authority to negotiate with the French wizarding government, and has the blessing of the Wizengamot. However, as far as we can tell, you will be dealing only with the French equivalent of our Department of Magical Law Enforcement, which is . . .” He looked at Bill.

“La Direction Administrative de la Police Magique Nationale. DAPMN,” he added. “The French themselves use the abbreviation.”

“Right,” Kingsley said. “The French are organized almost office by office the same as their Muggle government. Now, you, Laura, are there to assist both Harry and Saliyah with any administrative or logistical issues. You’re quite familiar with what those are, so I won’t bore you.

“Bill is your interpreter. He’ll work closely with Saliyah and also with the French interpreter, whoever that is. They have several excellent ones who speak fluent English. We, too, have several very skilled French-speaking people in the Ministry, a few of whom have been trained as interpreters, but we—Saliyah and I—decided not to use them because we want to make a certain impression.”

He paused, and Bill leaned forward. “I don’t mind your saying it, Minister.”

Kingsley nodded. “It can be a sensitive subject. What I’m about to say applies to you too, Harry. We want them to understand that we suffered tremendously under the Death Eater regime and at the hand of Lord Voldemort. It’s not a false impression, as everyone here knows quite well. But we can’t expect people who didn’t suffer through it to really understand. I asked Bill to consider joining the mission only after I explained this to him. He courageously agreed, and I’m grateful.” He nodded at Bill.

“It helps that I have a French wife,” Bill said with an impish smile.

“Is she coming with us?” Harry asked hopefully. “Isn’t she close to . . .”?

“Less than a month,” said Bill, “but the Healer gave her the okay to Portkey. She didn’t want to miss an all-expense-paid trip to Paris.”

“Mrs. Weasley,” said Kingsley, “will impart a somewhat different impression than Bill.”

Harry chuckled with the rest. “Why isn’t she here?” he said to the Minister.

“Because she doesn’t need to know the details of the mission. She’ll be joining you as soon as we’re finished.”

He turned a serious face to Harry. “Now we come to The Chosen One. Sorry, I know you don’t like it, but that’s how you are known over there.” He looked at Bill. “What is it in French?”

“L’Elu.”

The Minister looked back at Harry. “You are going for two reasons. We want you to get the experience. It will be extraordinarily valuable for you in the future. You will begin to make acquaintances and maybe even friends. You will have a picture in your mind of what it is like there. And, they will start to know you. That’s the second reason. Harry, I know how much your notoriety embarrasses you, but I want you to begin thinking of your reputation as a tool, something you can use to reach a goal.”

“I think I know what you’re going to say,” Harry said. “The same things you said at Fred’s funeral.”

The Minister smiled and leaned back in his chair. “I knew you would understand.”

“It’s a little cynical, though, isn’t it?”

Kingsley’s booming laugh filled the room. “Yes, it is indeed.” He suddenly became serious. “It can be a danger, Harry, a great danger, to both of us. I believe in you, and so does everyone who knows you, but that’s no guarantee against corruption. The only thing that will keep your goals relatively pure and your methods relatively honorable is what’s inside you.”

The Minister’s last words echoed in Harry’s mind, but in a different voice, a woman’s voice, Ginny’s voice. “It’s me who’s inside you, love,” it said.

Harry blinked. “I’m planning on doing my best, and I have plenty of help.”

Kingsley nodded. “We’re all here to help each other. Now, what were we talking about?”

“My reputation.”

“Yes, as a means to an end. And in this case, the ultimate end is setting up a liaison between all the magical law enforcement agencies in Europe, starting with the French, and gradually bringing in the others. Saliyah?” He turned to the Head Auror.

“I see two stages to this negotiation,” she said. “The first is to smooth the feathers that were ruffled when we sent people across the Channel last year to pursue the Death Eaters. The second will be to get the French to agree on a liaison between us and them as a first step in an inter-magical law enforcement agency, Intermagic if you will. I’ll consider it a success if we make progress towards the first goal.”

“So you don’t expect us to actually set anything up?” Harry said.

“No. It’s going to take a while. When we meet with our counterparts tomorrow, we’ll be interested in making a good impression.”

“Or just an impression,” Bill grinned, touching his scarred face.

“That’s right,” Saliyah said. “Remember, for almost a year there were no contacts between the two magical governments, but even before that, under Fudge, there was a lot of suspicion on both sides. Things improved a little under Rufus, but it was short-lived.”

After a few more minutes, Kingsley bade them good luck and they returned to the Head Auror’s office. To Harry’s delight, Fleur was there, and after an embrace with Bill she gave Harry a hug. She laughed and patted her huge belly when he stared at it.

“‘Arry,” she said before they went into the inner office, “I stopped off at ‘ogwarts before I came ‘ere, and Ginny sends you a big kiss, which I will wait for ‘er to give you.” She laughed again.

“Did you go there to see her?” Harry asked, a little surprised.

“Oh, no. I looked ‘er up, but I wanted to talk to Madame Maxime. She is very close to some witches in ze government. Zey are in ze Education Directorate, but you never know when someone can ‘elp you.”

The Portkey was sitting on Saliyah’s desk, a boot that looked like it had been dug up from a garbage dump. “I Scourgified it,” Laura said dryly when she saw Harry’s dubious look.

“Are we ready?” the Head Auror asked. The boot glowed blue; they all reached for it and after several breathless moments they were in a long, ornate room with a wall of tall windows on one side. Through them Harry could see a large park with wide walkways and sculpted shrubbery. Opposite the windows was a row of tall gilded mirrors. He glanced up and saw large paintings on the ceiling depicting voluptuous, naked women and muscular, naked men, all engaged in various activities. _I’d like to show that to Ginny_ , was the first thought that came to him.

He heard voices and turned. Four wizards in flowing red robes had come through a door and were sweeping towards them from the end of the room. Saliyah spoke quickly before they came within earshot.

“No one talks but me,” she said in a low voice. “And we are not in Versailles. This is all done with magic.”

The wizard in the lead had a smile as he approached. “Welcome to France!” he exclaimed and took Saliyah’s extended hand. “Madame Head Auror Ushujaa, I presume? I am Chief Inspector Pierre Guebwiller, at your service.”

Saliyah bowed slightly. “Delighted to meet you, Chief Inspector. May I introduce my colleagues?” As she did so, a wizard standing at Guebwiller’s shoulder translated her words for the others. “This is Mr. Harry Potter, my assistant—” the Frenchmen looked at him with interest and their eyes all flicked to his forehead “—my administrative assistant, Miss Laura Lovegood, our interpreter, Mr. William Weasley, and his wife, Madame Fleur Delacour-Weasley.”

The wizards noted Bill’s scarred face and looked at Fleur with polite appreciation; their eyes all lingered for a moment on her long, silver hair.

Guebwiller bowed. “Charmante. These are my Auror colleagues, Messrs. Colkett and Lemaire, and our interpreter Monsieur Lalangue. May I escort you to your quarters? As you know, I am sure,” he said as he led them to the door at the end of the long room, “we are in le Ministère de la Magie, our Ministry of Magic, and this hallway is our presumptuous attempt to over-impress visitors. If you like, we can arrange a tour of the real Versailles. I’m sure you would find it much more impressive than this clumsy illusion.”

When they left the room with its windows, mirrors, and amorous ceiling, they came into a corridor that was almost identical to every hallway in the British Ministry of Magic. There were no windows, and it was lit by guttering torches mounted on the walls. Wizards and witches in a rainbow of variously colored robes passed by, hurrying along to unknown destinations. Most of them carried parchments or clutched folders in their hands; they all glanced at the visitors as they passed, and many of the wizards gave more than a glance at Fleur. An occasional owl flew overhead with a parchment in its beak or tied to its leg; Harry didn’t see any droppings on the floor, and wondered how the French had solved that problem.

They walked through twisting corridors and came to a bank of lifts. M. Guebwiller pushed the button and after a moment a lift came to a clattering stop. To Harry it seemed smaller and twice as rickety as the ones in the Ministry at home, but they all crowded in, somewhat pressed together.

It went up and stopped after three floors. The corridor on this level was carpeted and lit with candles instead of torches. They saw fewer people here, and finally stopped in front of an ordinary-looking door. Inside they found themselves in a large sitting room, tastefully furnished with several couches and comfortable-looking chairs. There was a fireplace with a cheerful fire, a large desk with writing materials, and through a doorway what appeared to be a kitchenette, from which came low voices. Four closed doors led from the room, and Harry assumed that those were the bedrooms. There were several portraits of wizards and witches on the walls; all of the paintings’ residents watched the visitors as they entered.

M. Guebwiller gestured around the room. “We leave you here. Should you want anything, pull the bell cord—” he indicated a tasseled rope next to the fireplace “—and someone will come to assist you. For any of your housekeeping needs, ask the house-elves. They do not speak English, so Mr. Weasley will have to communicate your wishes to them. If you want to go out and see the city or any nearby locations, we will be happy to escort you to the nearest exit of the Ministry and provide a guide, if you wish.” He bowed again and the four wizards left.

“House-elves?” Harry walked to the kitchenette door and peered in. Two house-elves looked up; they were young, but dressed as British elves did, in simple coverings with rope belts. They both had large, bulbous eyes, floppy ears, and long noses; Harry noticed that their eyes were blue, something he didn’t ever recall seeing in an elf at home.

He nodded to them, and they both bowed. As he turned back to the sitting room they began chattering in French, and Harry was certain he heard them say his name and that French word for “The Chosen One.”

He joined the others on the couches. They talked about the wizards they had met and the faux Hall of Mirrors, and Bill suggested a sightseeing tour of Paris. Saliyah and Laura had been in the city many times, so Harry, Bill, and Fleur went out.

Harry was enchanted with everything he saw. It was the first time he had ever been in a foreign city and he reveled in the sights, sounds, and smells. Everything was different, everything was marvelous. They took a lift to the top of the Eiffel Tower and looked out over the whole city; they rode a boat along the Seine; he gawked at the magnificent interior of Notre Dame; they strolled down avenues and wide boulevards, and as dusk fell they ate at a sidewalk café that Bill and Fleur knew from Bill’s trips to Douces Mains, the French wizarding bank to which Gringotts was connected. They sat in the soft April evening and watched the automobiles, the lights, and the people strolling by.

“This is beautiful,” Harry said as he sipped a glass of wine, chosen for him by Bill. “It feels so different from London. There’s something special about it.”

Fleur was drinking Perrier. “You must return wiz Ginny,” she said with a smile. “And you must come exactly one year from now. April in Paris is ze perfect time for lovers.”

Harry gazed off towards the west. He could feel Ginny’s presence, and he filled himself up with the sensuousness of the city, knowing that Ginny would feel it too.

“I’m really glad to be here with you,” he said. “A lot of things that Kingsley said are starting to click into place for me.”

“Harry.” Bill had a small frown as he put down his glass of wine. “Kingsley said something I wanted to talk to you about. Do you remember when he mentioned ends and means?”

Harry nodded. “Are you going to say that the ends don’t justify the means? I agree.”

“No, I’m going to say something quite different, that the means _are_ the end. The way you accomplish something determines what you end up with. Do you see the difference?”

Harry thought for a moment. “But don’t you think Kingsley would agree with that? Isn’t it exactly what he said at Fred’s funeral?”

“I don’t know,” Bill said, a little sadly; Fleur put her hand on his. “He’s a good man, don’t get me wrong, and I believe in all the lofty goals he’s talked about for almost a year now. I’m sure he does too. But when he told you to use your reputation to help us get a liaison set up, it bothered me.”

“I think I see what you mean,” said Harry. “Why did he say it?”

“Because he wants it so badly. I don’t mean he’s desperate to have a permanent diplomat here. That’s just one small step in the larger vision. Like I said, I still think it’s a worthy vision and worth fighting for, but . . .” He sighed and pressed his lips together. “When powerful people start talking about a means to an end, it sends up a warning flag. You shouldn’t be using your reputation, Harry, you should be earning it.”

Harry turned his head as a young couple walked towards the café; they had a large white dog on a leash and as they passed, the animal veered, its tail wagging, and suddenly put its front paws on Harry’s lap and barked once. Harry was startled at first, but smiled and scratched the animal’s head. The man pulled the dog off and started apologizing in French.

“It’s okay,” Harry laughed, and looked at Bill. Bill said something in French, and the man was about to respond but abruptly stopped and stared at him with wide eyes and his mouth hanging open. He stepped back two paces, looked at Fleur and his eyes grew wider. He turned to the woman, who was also gazing at Fleur with an amazed expression. They slowly backed away and resumed walking, looking over their shoulders at the strange couple sitting at the table.

“What is zere problem?” Fleur said, glaring at their backs. She followed with a string of rapid French; Bill laughed and stood.

“Time to get back, before we attract too much attention.” He paid the bill, put Fleur’s arm in his, and they made their way to the abandoned Metro station, just off Les Champs Elysées, that was the entrance to Le Ministère de la Magie.

Dinner that night was in the private dining room of the Ministre de la Magie, M. Paramètre, a short, energetic wizard who paid a great deal of attention to Fleur. The food was excellent, although not quite as robust as what Harry had eaten at Hogwarts or the Burrow, but it reminded him of some of the dishes Fleur had served at Shell Cottage. He sat between Laura and a pretty witch with red hair in dark blue robes, not much older than himself. She asked him about the Battle of Hogwarts, and he judged by her questions that she was fairly misinformed about many things. She thought, for example, that the castle had been invested by a goblin army in the pay of Lord Voldemort.

“They were Death Eaters,” he told her through Bill, who was sitting on her other side. “I didn’t see any goblins.”

“No goblins? That is surprising. Don’t you think they had an interest in seeing the Dark Lord victorious?”

“No. I knew one fairly well, and I think he recognized how dangerous Riddle would have been to goblins in the long run.”

She arched her eyebrows. “Riddle? That was the surname of the Dark Lord, wasn’t it?”

Harry nodded. “He hated it because his father was a Muggle.”

“Yes, Muggle. I know that word.” She appraised him for a moment. “Well, Mr. Potter, you seem to have a different story to tell than the one we heard here. Do you have an explanation for that?”

Harry glanced around and noticed that Saliyah, who was sitting across from him next to the Minister, was looking at him. “Stories tend to change as they travel, don’t you think?” he said to the French witch. “Since I was there, you’ll have to admit that my version must be more accurate.”

“Yes,” she smiled slightly. “I do admit that. And there is another story we heard that sounds too fantastic to be true, so maybe you can set us straight once again. They say that you died and came back to life. Is this true? Many Muggle religions claim such a miracle. Is there now a wizarding miracle to match it?”

All the conversations at the table had stopped; Harry could feel all eyes on him, especially Saliyah’s. He knew that he must not even hint at the existence of the Horcrux or say anything about the Elder Wand.

“Well . . . ” He hesitated, trying to give himself time to think. Bill smiled and nodded.

Harry spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully. “I don’t know if you know what happened to me when I was one year old.”

He looked around, taking more time; Saliyah gave him a quick nod and her eyes smiled.

Harry continued. “Lord Voldemort tried to kill me when I was an infant because of a prophecy that said one of us must die for the other to live. He killed my father, but he intended to spare my mother. She refused to step aside, so he killed her. Then he tried to kill me, but her sacrifice created a blood protection, and his Killing Curse rebounded. It destroyed his body but somehow his soul lived, and it gave me my scar.” He put his finger on it, and everyone gazed at his forehead. “That blood protection is what saved me when I faced him in the Forest during the battle. He thought he had killed me, but I had only been temporarily knocked out. He and his army returned to Hogwarts Castle with my body, and when the fighting started again I was able to get away from him undetected. The next time we faced each other, I won the duel.”

The Minister for Magic spoke through his interpreter. “But Monsieur Potter, that doesn’t make sense. They say that when he killed you in that forest, the Dark Lord himself was rendered unconscious. Something else must have happened.”

Saliyah leaned forward and spoke, much to Harry’s relief, “Monsieur le Ministre, there are many, many things about that battle that no one understands yet. In fact the entire event is being studied by our Department of Mysteries.”

He frowned briefly, but quickly smiled. “Fine, let’s not dwell on death, even if it’s followed by resurrection.” He looked at Harry. “You will have to tell us the complete story of your exploits someday. I look forward to it.”

The meal was soon over, and the British delegation returned to their quarters. Saliyah convened a short meeting before they retired, and commented on the conversation Harry had had with the blue-robed witch and what had followed.

“I think it was a test,” she remarked. “There didn’t seem to be much point to her questions, and I can’t imagine that they don’t have an accurate account of what happened, after all this time.”

“What was she testing?” Harry said.

“Maybe ‘test’ is the wrong word. She was probing to see how you would respond to an inaccurate story about yourself. Maybe they also doubted what they had heard about you and Riddle. It is a rather unusual tale.”

“Which means that they’re interested in me.”

Saliyah grinned. “And they also think that you might be important some day.”

“‘Arry is already important,” Fleur declared. “Ozerwise you would not ‘ave brought ‘im ‘ere. Ooo!” She put her hand on her belly and smiled at Bill. “She ‘as given me a swift kick.” He put his hand next to hers and also grinned.

They all went to bed. Harry’s room was cramped, with a narrow cot, nightstand, chair, and small wardrobe. A candelabra with three candles stood on the nightstand. He got into bed and extinguished the candles with a wave of his hand, and lay in the dark thinking about his day.

He knew that he had to come back to Paris with Ginny and savor the city with her; she would love it. He wondered what she was doing now; probably thinking about tomorrow’s Quidditch match. He closed his eyes and imagined her soaring through the clear sky on her Firebolt above cheering crowds, holding the Golden Snitch above her head, her hair billowing out behind her like a flame. He fell asleep with a smile on his face.

They ate breakfast the next morning in their sitting room at a table the elves set up, and discussed once again their strategy for the meeting. At ten o’clock the interpreter, M. Lalangue, arrived and took them to the office of the Chief Inspector. M. Guebwiller and the two Aurors who had been with him yesterday rose from their seats. There was also another witch who was introduced as the official scribe of the Département de la Justice Magique, Madame Plume.

M. Guebwiller began and Bill translated as he spoke. Saliyah responded and M. Lalangue translated for the French side. Harry tried to listen carefully; the French were complaining about some of the things that the British pursuers of the Death Eaters had done, and Saliyah was defending them. He soon realized that she understood more French than he had supposed, and she began to respond to Guebwiller’s words before Bill had finished. And since Guebwiller understood English, he too started to cut through his own interpreter.

Soon they had lost Harry since he could only understand half of the heated conversation. The words went back and forth; the British Auror and the French Auror were disagreeing, but now Harry didn’t know why. He stared glassy-eyed at the table, trying not to let on that he had no idea what was happening.

_The wind rushed through their hair, and a wave of sound drowned out the angry voices around him. The sun blazed overhead and the ground rushed up at them. A small, golden ball shot across their vision and their outstretched hand snatched it from the air. The roar of the crowd doubled as they swooped low over the stadium. A figure in the crowd stood out; she was clad in green robes emblazoned with a gold talon. She had a grin on her face and she pointed at them with an upraised arm. They dove toward her and people around her ducked their heads even as they were applauding. They slapped the Golden Snitch against her outstretched palm and she closed her hand around the winged ball._

_They soared up again, laughing wildly, loosening the clip in their hair and tossing their head as red tresses billowed around their face. He heard a  whisper, “Harry, I’m here, Harry . . .”_

He felt a sharp pain in his thigh and looked down to see Laura’s hand with a quill in it, jabbing at him under the table. He came out of the vision, or whatever it was, and saw that Saliyah and the French Auror were almost shouting at each other, one in English, the other in French, not waiting for anything to be translated. He glanced around the table; no one was looking at him, and it seemed that only Lovegood had noticed his absence. He took a breath, leaned forward, and tried to follow the conversation.

An hour later things had cooled down a bit and they broke for the midday meal. Harry found himself on the edges of the conversations. He didn’t mind; he was still disoriented from the Quidditch match that Ginny—or he—or they—had just won.

Fleur was the center of attention. Harry wasn’t sure what she was talking about—she spoke only French during the whole meal—but he could tell that she was deliberately turning on the charm, flirting with all the French wizards at the table, even patting the hand of M. Guebwiller who was sitting next to her. At one point she glanced at Harry, and he thought she gave him a quick wink.

Before they returned to the negotiating table Saliyah pulled him into a corner. “I’m sorry about what happened. He’s claiming that we caused a ruckus in their Muggle government when we were looking for Umbridge.” She lowered her voice even more. “Don’t talk about this as long as we’re in France, but we know for a fact that that’s false. We have sources here.”

She looked around as the French started to move back into the meeting room. “I’ll slow things down so you can follow them. I think we’re past the accusations and can start to get things done.”

“I didn’t know you spoke French.”

“I can’t speak it well, but I understand enough to get more than the gist of what they’re saying.” She thought for a moment. “Sit next to Fleur and if something gets skipped over, ask her to translate it.”

Harry took a different seat and whispered to Fleur what Saliyah had told him. The meeting began, but now the mood seemed friendlier. The interpreters were allowed to finish their sentences and Harry was able to follow everything. Soon everyone was smiling and Saliyah was shaking Guebwiller’s hand. They all rose and went out to the room where they had eaten lunch. A champagne cork popped, and everyone toasted the friendship of the two wizarding governments and their people.

They made arrangements for a tour that afternoon of the Palace of Versailles with the French Aurors, and once again returned to their quarters. Saliyah was jubilant. She hugged Fleur, carefully.

“I don’t know what kind of veela magic you worked, but they certainly were a different bunch after lunch.” She chuckled at her words and turned to Laura. “Kingsley should know about this right away. I’d like you to Portkey back and fill him in. Then come back here and wait for us.”

She pulled the rope, and in a minute the door opened and M. Lalangue put his head in. Laura left with him and the other four sat around the fire that the house-elves lit.

“So now all we have to do is appoint the liaison person?” Harry asked.

“Well, it’s not quite that simple, but basically, yes.” Saliyah leaned back with a satisfied look. “I honestly didn’t expect them to agree so quickly. I think, Harry, that your being with us helped our credibility.”

“But I didn’t do anything. In fact, during the morning I got completely lost; I had no idea what was happening.”

The Head Auror smiled. “I’m sorry about that. We got a little carried away. He was being rather a prat, and I was being rather bitchy. But that’s all water over the dam.” She rubbed her hands in satisfaction and stood. “I think it’s time for our sightseeing tour.”

Fleur decided to stay and rest, so Harry, Bill, and Saliyah took a Ministry limousine with M. Guebwiller and his assistants to the suburb of Versailles and the royal palace.

Harry had never imagined that anything so vast and beautiful could have been created without using magic. He had seen some of the large public buildings in London, such as Parliament, but this was ostentatious on a grandly different scale. The gardens were endless, and completely different from the gardens he had seen in the parks of London; they were orderly, elegant, symmetrical, and there were fountains everywhere. The vast palace went on room after room, and each one and each echoing hall was crammed with artwork, statues, and beautiful ceramics. The French wizards seemed to have a relationship with the guards, or whoever it was that ran the place. They went into rooms where there were no Muggle tourists and where there were no lights until, as they entered, the chandeliers and candelabras burst into light, revealing more stunning vistas of royal opulence.

They returned to the Ministère de la Magie after dark. Laura was back, and Fleur was reclining on a couch reading a French magazine; she sat up, grunting with the effort.

“I think I love France,” Harry said to her as he dropped onto the other couch; Bill sat next to Fleur, gave her a kiss, and put his hand on her belly.

“Bravo!” Fleur cried. “I knew you would. But France is not all like ze palace of Versailles, just like England is not all like . . . like . . .” She frowned. “Well, England ‘as not’ing like our chateaux of the nobility. As corrupt as zey were, zey knew ‘ow to make beautiful t’ings.” Harry smiled at her disdain for British culture.

A few minutes later he went into his room and flopped onto the cot. He took the silver cylinder hanging around his neck under his shirt, pressed it to his lips, and closed his eyes as Ginny’s fragrance filled the little room. He wished she could have come with him. He couldn’t believe that he could miss her so much, even though he would see her in less than twenty-four hours, and only a few hours ago it had been as if he was inside her body back at Hogwarts. He had almost asked Saliyah if he could return to London instead of Laura, but he knew he had to stay until tomorrow. What was he going to do after they got married and his career took him away from her for days or weeks? How was he going to cope without driving himself crazy with the Bouquedelle?

He got up and went back into the sitting room. It was empty, so he went to the door directly across from his and knocked. It opened and Bill looked at him in surprise.

“Are you okay?” he asked, opening the door wide and stepping aside for Harry to enter. This room was slightly larger than his, with a double bed instead of a single, and two chairs. Fleur was lying on the bed reading the magazine, but she put it down and smiled.

“‘Arry! Come in, sit down.”

Bill removed a shirt hanging over the back of a chair and sat in the other. “What’s up, mate?” he asked cheerfully. “Are you missing a certain someone?”

Harry grinned and fell into the chair. “Yeah. It’s crazy, since I’ll see her tomorrow, but it seems like we’re so far away from each other. I don’t get like this during the week, even if four or five days go by.”

“I know exactly what you mean.” Bill looked at Fleur affectionately. “Distance seems to have an effect on my feelings too. I think this one works her witchcraft best from a distance.” He grinned evilly at Fleur who batted her eyelashes at him; she looked so alluring that Harry had to force himself to look away.

“What do you guys do when you’re separated?” He turned red. “I mean—I didn’t mean—” He turned even redder and looked down.

Fleur laughed, a tinkling, silvery sound like bells. “You are sweet, ‘Arry. Don’t worry, we understand what you are asking. Ze answer is, we don’t know because it ‘asn’t ‘appened yet, but we will learn pretty soon. As you know, right after your wedding Bill is going to Egypt for a couple of weeks for ze bank, and I’m staying wiz Maman so she can get to know ze baby.”

Harry sighed. “I’m worried. This morning during the meeting when Saliyah and that French chap were shouting at each other, something strange happened, but it’s not really strange because it’s happened before.”

Both Bill and Fleur looked at him, concerned. “It’s not anything bad,” he hastened to say, “but . . . well, what happened is that I had kind of a vision. Actually, it was more like I was really there, and I completely lost track of what was going on here. It was like I _wasn’t_ here.”

“I don’t understand,” said Bill with a little frown. “Did someone hex you?”

“I don’t t’ink ‘e is saying zat,” Fleur said knowingly. “Tell us what ‘appened, ‘Arry.”

The words started to pour out. “I was at the Quidditch match at Hogwarts. I was on the broom with Ginny. I _was_ Ginny. I know it sounds crazy, but, like I said, it’s happened before. We . . . we sort of come together, and there aren’t two of us, there’s only one of us. I know what she’s doing, feeling, thinking; and she knows what I’m doing. When it happened this morning, I couldn’t help it. I think only Laura noticed, but if someone had asked me a question, I don’t know what I would have said. Probably ‘great match, Gin!’”

“So she caught the Snitch!” Bill exclaimed, and looked guiltily at Fleur. “I mean, that’s very interesting, Harry.”

Fleur shot Bill a deprecating look. “Bah! Zere is more to life zan Quidditch. ‘Arry, I ‘ave ‘eard of zis t’ing, where two lovers become one, but I ‘ave never seen it. I t’ink it is quite rare and special. You and Ginny should consider yourselves very lucky, not crazy.”

“Oh, we don’t think we’re crazy, not at all. It’s really nice to know how things affect her, you know . . .” He turned red again as both Bill and Fleur grinned. “The last few times, though, it was scary. It felt like we were melting together, and we got frightened and jumped back. But this morning, it happened without our noticing it, at least I didn’t. One second I was sitting at the table here in the Ministry of la Magie, and the next second I was catching the Golden Snitch in the stadium at Hogwarts.”

“Did Ginny know you were zere?” Fleur asked.

“Oh, yes. She whispered something to me.”

They were quiet for a few moments, and Harry leaned back, feeling good that he had talked to Bill and Fleur. He knew that Ginny wouldn’t mind, in fact she would be glad, especially to find out that Fleur had heard of this thing.

Bill finally spoke. “It’s a blessing, Harry. And it’s definitely magical, which means that there’s a way to control it. It will take time, but I think that eventually you and Ginny will be able to turn it on and off at will. That’s how you’ll cope with being away from her.” He gazed at Fleur for a moment, and she smiled. “You and Ginny are lucky, Harry, although I think there's more to it than luck.”

There was a knock at the door. Bill reached over and opened it and Saliyah looked in. “Ah, here you are, Harry. It’s time to get ready for dinner. Dress robes, everyone.”

Dinner was very elegant, hosted by Monsieur le Ministre, served in a darkly paneled dining room with large chandeliers, linen table cloths and napkins, fine china, and what seemed like dozens of house-elves; Harry was certain that there was always at least one at his elbow ready to whisk his plate as soon as he finished a course. And he soon lost track of how many courses there were. This time the food outdid anything he had ever tasted at Shell Cottage; there were a few dishes he couldn’t identify, but those gave him a new and delicious taste sensation.

The elves also kept filling his wine glass, and he quickly realized he would have to be careful or else he could easily fall asleep with his head in his plate. Each time M. Paramètre or M. Guebwiller or Saliyah proposed a toast, instead of taking a drink he simply put the glass to his lips and pretended to drink. He thought he detected a frown of disapproval from the house-elf who was pouring his wine, but he preferred to be awake for the rest of the evening.

The meal finally ended, and Harry got up from the table slowly and carefully; he had never been so full, even at one of Hogwarts’ famous feasts. When they went back to their quarters it was late, and since they all wanted to leave as early as possible the next morning, they went right to their separate rooms. Harry didn’t use the Bouquedelle, but he put his arms around the pillow and kissed it for Ginny. He fell asleep thinking about the soft curves of her body that he loved to caress.

They were served a fabulous breakfast the next morning in their quarters. Harry asked if he could take a half-dozen of the puffy, cream-filled pastries with him, and the elves packed them in a special box that would protect them during the Portkey. The French Aurors came and took them to the magical Hall of Mirrors where they said farewell and Portkeyed back to Saliyah’s office.

Kingsley was there, smiling and congratulating everyone. Harry left as soon as he could and ran down the corridor to the lift, found one waiting, and tore through the empty Atrium to the fireplaces. He stumbled out of the fireplace in his flat, almost crashing into the love seat in his haste. When he got to his feet, McPherson hooted from his perch and Harry saw a parchment on the mantel.

It was from Ginny:  _I know you were with me. Come as quickly as you can. I love you._

He threw his bags into the bedroom and jumped back into the fireplace, stumbling again into the Gryffindor common room. The second-years sitting in the chairs in front of the fireplace pointed wordlessly as one to the back of the room. Harry composed himself, brushed ashes from his hair, and walked to where Ginny was standing looking out a window.

“Hey, champ,” he said as he put his arms around her from the back.

She turned with a squeal and flung her arms around him. “Two hundred thirty to ten!” she cried. “We were perfect! Dennis missed one shot, but he stopped five others! And . . . and how did you know, how did you get there?”

“Let’s sit someplace.” Harry looked around but said hopefully, “Or, can you come back to the flat?”

“I don’t know, I have a lot of work to do,” Ginny said with a frown, but Harry saw the tease in her eye.

“I brought back some French pastries. They’re really yummy, filled with scrumptious cream.”

“Blimey, if that isn’t a line. Luring me with fattening food, are you, Potter?”

“It’s the best I can do. There are six of them, and I’ll let you have four.”

“Five.”

“That’s not fair! Besides, you’re right, they’re very fattening. You’ll probably only want three, now that I think about it.”

“Five, or you’ll be lonely for the rest of the day.” She looked up at him from under her eyebrows and unbuttoned his shirt. She put her hands on his chest and started to rub.

Harry groaned. “Okay, okay! All six! I surrender.”

Ginny kissed him, put her hands inside the front pockets of his pants, and started rummaging, eliciting another moan. “I knew you’d see reason,” she smiled. “Is your Floo Powder in here?”

# # # #

As the afternoon waned, they lay in the four-poster in the flat with the hangings closed; they wanted to be snug and private as they discussed what had happened to them during the Quidditch match.

“Saliyah and the French Auror were talking back and forth without translating, and I was completely lost. But all of a sudden, the sun was out and I was diving on my—your—our broom. You—we caught the Snitch and took off again. Was that witch in the green robes from the Harpies?”

“Mmm.” Ginny ran her fingers through the hair on his chest; her head was on his shoulder and her leg was thrown across his thighs. “That was Stephanie Dee, their Chaser coach. She was there with Gwenog Jones.”

“She seemed pretty happy with you.”

Ginny smiled and kissed his chin. “You need a shave. Yes, she was happy. Harry, we played so well. Hufflepuff never had a chance. Their heads were spinning, we were flying around like there was no one else out there. I almost felt sorry for them.”

“I didn’t sense any pity when I was there with you.” He chuckled and ran his finger down her back, along her hip, and down her leg; he came back up with his whole hand, lingering on the round parts.

“I didn’t have any,” she said into his neck, giving him chills. She hesitated. “Harry, how is that connection happening? Do you know what it sounds like when you describe it?”

She lifted her head and looked at him. At first he didn’t meet her eyes, but when he did, they knew that both of them were worried.

He nodded. “It sounds like when I was connected to Riddle.”

“That’s what I thought too.”

“But it’s not scary at all, and it’s not coming through my scar.” He touched his forehead. “I go for weeks without even thinking about that. Whatever’s happening, it’s different from before.”

Ginny put her head back on his shoulder and resumed twirling his chest hair. “I hope you don’t miss the Ravenclaw match. It should be pretty interesting with you right there, and not hundreds of miles away.”

“Speaking of which, we have to take a trip to Paris. It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.”

“That would be nice. It’s supposed to be very romantic.”

“It ees for lovers,” he said in a bad imitation of Fleur. “And there are lots of pastry shops.”

Ginny laughed and kissed him. After a deep snog, Harry rolled on top and they made love again.

# # # #

That week, time seemed to speed up for Ginny. Many things were happening, and events crowded together. The owlets started making excursions outside the owlery and Bailey brought them to Ginny’s room several times. Her roommates loved it, but when Sarah asked for one, Ginny lied and told her that all of them were spoken for. They weren’t strong enough to carry anything, but Rosie and Mocha would fly down to the window of the first-years’ room, and the twins pretended to give them messages for Ginny. The owlets would chirp excitedly and fly off in no particular direction, but return a minute later holding up an empty leg.

The wedding was another event fast approaching. July 17 was only a month after the end of term, and Molly Weasley was worried that there was not enough time to complete all the preparations. She went into a frantic overdrive, which provided lots of work for both Bailey and McPherson, who Ginny borrowed from Harry. She had to send two or three messages a day, trying to prevent her mum from creating faits accomplis that were not to Ginny’s liking.

For example, Molly wanted to use the same marquee that Bill and Fleur had used, but Ginny wanted something totally different. One day in Herbology, while she was daydreaming about it, Luna said, from out of the blue, “Make a living marquee. Use trees and vines.”

Ginny blinked and stared at her. “How did you know what I was thinking about?”

Luna shrugged and went back to trimming her Folding And Stapling Zucchini plant. “All you think about now is your wedding. You were talking about the marquee in the library last night, and now here we are in Herbology.”

Ginny grinned at Keesha. “I should have guessed.”

“It’s a good idea,” Keesha said. “Why don’t you ask Neville? I’ll bet he could make one.”

Ginny agreed that it was a good idea, but it took a week for her to convince her mother. Meanwhile she had to fight battles about her gown, the flower girls—Molly wouldn’t give up on the Prewett cousins—George’s outfit, and whether to include the entire Order of the Phoenix on the guest list. Ginny finally conceded that one—provided Mundungus Fletcher was on the list—in an attempt to head off Jennifer, Leah, and Alicia Prewett, none of whom she knew from the Queen of England.

Another event on Ginny’s list was the Ravenclaw match. She knew that this one would be the toughest; the Slytherin team was pathetic—they had now lost all three of their matches by a combined score of six hundred ten to fifty, and Hufflepuff was gutsy but slow. Ravenclaw had a decent Seeker in Hector Freeman and they were smart, plus they had now had two opportunities to study Gryffindor; they also had won their first two matches, so if they beat Gryffindor they would take the Cup. Ginny didn’t think that her team had many weaknesses—as long as Dennis didn’t revert to his old ways—but she wanted to go out with a bang, or at least a solid victory.

She talked about it with Harry and Ron, and decided to double the team’s practices until a week before the match at the end of May. She spent hours poring over the magical Harpies book, searching for something new to surprise Ravenclaw with. She explained to the team what she was trying to do, and they took to it with a will, even Jimmy Peakes. The prospects of a perfect, dominating season and possession of the first Quidditch Cup after last year’s hiatus motivated everyone. Ginny started holding practices every day except Sundays, and her feeling grew that this would indeed be a special year for Gryffindor.

There was one other grim event, though, that began to dominate her time and her energy. May 2 was the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, and the school was planning a great memorial ceremony to which the entire wizarding world was invited. Ginny was involved with the planning, but she also made sure that she saw George as often as possible. He started coming to the castle during the week, and they took long walks around the lake and even into the Forbidden Forest, just to be alone. On weekends Ginny and Harry made sure that both George and Angelina, who had set up a small flat over the shop at Zonko’s, had as much company as they wanted; Harry insisted that they take all their meals at the inn, and they were usually joined by Ron and Hermione.

On Saturday, May 1, the entire Weasley family, plus wife, fiancé, and girlfriends gathered at the Burrow. Charlie had flown in the day before; when he told Ginny that he would be staying until the wedding, she threw herself into his arms in delight.

The family got to meet Percy’s friend, Audrey Tinklebell, for the first time. Percy was spared the unmerciful teasing he might have expected from George, because George spent the entire day at Fred’s grave with Angelina and Molly. The other family members came and went, but those three never left it until well after dark and Arthur, Bill, and Charlie came down to insist that they have dinner in the house.

During that day, Ginny quickly came to realize why her mother had been acting like a crazed whirlwind about wedding plans: she needed to distract herself from the approaching anniversary of Fred’s death. But as the day before the memorial wore on, neither the wedding nor even the impending birth of her first grandchild could deflect her mind. Molly became more and more distraught. It was almost frightening to Ginny; she had never seen her mother so unable to function, so helpless, always weeping and staring with vacant eyes into the void where her son had vanished.


	50. Victories

After a very quiet dinner—prepared by Ginny, Fleur, and Charlie—Arthur took Molly up to their room while George and Angelina went back to the grave. Bill and Fleur had decided to take the Hogwarts Express Special that was leaving at midnight from King’s Cross Station, rather than risk a Portkey with the baby being due any day, so they left for London in a Gringotts car. The rest of the family gathered in the parlor, where the mood was also subdued.

“Do you think Mum will be okay?” Ron asked. “It’s scary to see her like that.”

“I think she’ll be all right,” said Charlie. “Maybe not for the next couple of days, but she’ll have the baby and the wedding and that will turn her around.”

Ginny and Harry were sitting together on the hearth. They had stayed in the flat on Friday night, but tonight Harry would be sleeping in Ron’s room and Ginny in her own bed. Ginny was clinging to him a lot, feeling very depressed because of her mother and because of the feelings she knew tomorrow would bring. Her melancholy sadness was a presence in Harry’s soul.

“Let’s go for a walk,” he murmured to her. “It’s been a long time since we were down by the river.”

They told everyone where they were going and went out. It was the middle of the evening, and a beautiful full moon floated just above the tree line off to the east. They passed the peach tree in the back yard and went through the gate into the woods. The path down to the river was familiar, even though they hadn’t been there since Christmas. They stood on the bank, holding each other and listening to the quiet water.

“I’m not looking forward to tomorrow,” Ginny said as Harry ran his hand through her hair and down her back. “I’ve had nightmares about Elizabeth.”

“I know.” Harry pressed her head to his chest. Ginny had a big part to play in the memorial, and Harry knew it was going to be painful.

Ginny sighed, and as she turned to look at the lights of the village across the river they heard the snap of a twig breaking; a solitary figure was walking along the bank towards them. Harry reached into his pocket and put his hand on his wand.

“Miss Weasley?” came a voice that made Ginny start.

“Who are you?” Harry demanded, and took out his wand.

The figure stopped and held up his empty hands. “I’m Jensarod Wilson. Please, I need to speak to you.” Ginny pushed Harry’s hand down and the man started walking again, stopping ten feet away. His face was in moon-shadow, and Harry lit his wand and held it up.

He looked nothing like what Ginny remembered. His hair was very dark and he had a long, bushy beard. He was also gaunt, and in wand-light his eyes had a haunted look. He dropped his hands to his side and stood there.

“Where are your brothers?” Ginny said.

He indicated the woods behind him. “About a quarter-mile from here. We didn’t want to alarm you, so we decided that just one of us should come.” He looked at Harry. “You’re Harry Potter, aren’t you?”

Harry nodded. “And you’re Sagittaria Slocum’s brother.”

“Half brother, yes. Our mother told us what happened to her.”

“She told me that you might try to contact Ginny. Why? There’s nothing she can do; just turn yourselves in. You’ll have a trial but you probably won’t be sent to Azkaban.”

The man’s brow furrowed for a moment. “How do you know that? That’s where they send murderers.”

“Things are different,” Ginny said, and walked towards him. He took a step back, but she reached and took his hand; he stared at her. “Last spring the Head Auror came here and told us that you’d probably get Ministry detention.”

He looked down at her hand. “Miss Weasley,” he said in a thick voice, “we’ve been hiding for almost a year. We aren’t sorry for what we did, but we’re tired and hungry, and we want to end it. That’s why we came here. We thought we could ask you to do for us what you did for Elizabeth.”

“What do you mean? I held her hand.”

Jensarod again looked down at her hand holding his; Ginny dropped it. He glanced back up the river and at Ginny. “Miss Weasley, would you come with us to the Ministry? It would be a help, maybe give us some courage.”

“Of course,” Ginny said without hesitating. “But I can’t do it tomorrow. There’s a ceremony at school, and I . . .” She trailed off; if she didn’t help them tomorrow, she might not be able to do it for another whole week, until next weekend, since she did not want to ask Professor McGonagall to let her leave school during the week. She turned to Harry. “Can we go tonight?”

He considered for a moment. “I don’t know where Saliyah is, but I think Professor Matthewson is on duty. I can check with Percy—”

“No!” Ginny said quickly. “Don’t check with Percy. He’ll turn official on us, he won’t let me go with them. Besides, you outrank him. Can’t we just go there and say, here we are?”

Wilson frowned. “What do you mean, Harry outranks him?”

“It’s nothing,” Harry said. “I . . . I’m in an Auror training program, but I’m not an Auror, I’m just—”

“He’s not going to arrest you,” Ginny said. “But if he comes with us I think it will be even better than if I go alone.”

The man looked from one to the other. “Yes, I think you’re right. Thank you, Mr. Potter.”

“What do we do now?” Ginny said to Harry.

“We go back to the Burrow. No one will come after you,” he said to Jensarod. “Get your brothers and bring them here. We’ll come back as soon as we can, and we can Disapparate to the Ministry.”

Jensarod bowed his head and walked away. He was soon lost in the shadows of the woods.

Harry and Ginny hurried back to the Burrow. “That was bizarre,” Harry said as they crossed the yard. “It reminds me of us running around the countryside last year.”

“But if you had been caught, you would have been killed.”

“Maybe Azkaban is just as bad.”

As they approached the house, Harry pointed to the attic window, the same one Ginny had Levitated him out of on her birthday; there was a light in it. They went straight up, and found Ron, Hermione, and Charlie, bringing each other up to date on their lives.

“Elizabeth Derby’s uncles are outside,” Ginny announced. “They want Harry and me to take them to the Ministry so they can surrender. We only saw one, but he looked terrible. I don’t think he’s had a decent meal in months.”

“They’re still on the loose?” Charlie said with surprise. “How did they manage that?”

“It’s not so difficult if you know what you’re doing,” Harry said. “And I don’t think anyone was looking for them very hard.”

“Matthewson is on duty,” Ron said. “He’s the perfect chap for this; he won’t be hard-assed.”

“So you think we should just Apparate there?” Harry said.

“No,” said Hermione. “Bring them here first. It sounds like they’re starving.”

“I don’t want Percy to see them,” Ginny scowled. “He’ll be a prat and want to march them straight off to Azkaban.”

“I don’t think he’d go that far,” Charlie said, “but I take your point. I agree with Hermione, bring the poor sods here and let them have a Molly meal before they get thrown in the jug for ten years.”

“What about Percy?” Ginny persisted. “I don’t want him screwing this up.”

“I’ll take care of him,” Charlie grinned. “I think Miss Tinklebell can be induced to request a moonlight stroll.”

“And what about Mum and Dad?”

“We have to tell them,” Charlie answered. “We can’t have four strangers in the house without letting them know.”

They decided that Ginny and Harry would bring the uncles back to the Burrow, Charlie would get Percy out of the house, and Ron and Hermione would tell everyone else what was happening. A half hour later, four tired, hungry, tattered men, all with beards hiding gaunt faces, were sitting at the kitchen table wolfing down sandwiches and chugging bottles of butterbeer, while Molly hovered over them, urging them to eat more. Charlie kept a watch out the window for Percy and Audrey, but they never returned until long after it was done and everyone else had gone to bed.

The men kept casting glances at a photo of Bill and Fleur at Shell Cottage that was hanging on the wall. Finally Herlo Wilson put down his third corned beef sandwich. “My sister Anne is a veela. Is this lady related to her?” he asked Molly, pointing to the picture.

“You mean Elizabeth’s mother? I don’t know, dear.” Molly went to the photo and straightened it. “I’ll ask her. How is your sister doing?”

“They say she sits in her house and never goes out.” His face hardened and he pushed back his plate. “When I think about her and . . . Elizabeth, I want Greyback to be alive so I can make him suffer again. I know it’s wrong, but that’s how I feel.”

“You did a good thing!” Molly exclaimed, and glared around, daring anyone to oppose her. “If that monster had lived, he would have escaped and attacked someone else. The world is better off without him, I say, and good riddance.”

Hermione, who had been sitting off by herself in a corner, saying nothing, rose and left the room. Ron went after her.

“Did I say something to upset her?” Molly looked around the room again.

“No, Mum,” Ginny said. “Bellatrix Lestrange was going to hand her over to Greyback.”

“Oh, dear, I forgot.” Molly put her hand to her mouth and gazed up the stairs where Hermione and Ron had just gone.

“I think we need to be going,” Harry said. “Mr. Weasley, can we use your fireplace? It would be easier than getting into the Ministry through one of the entrances.”

“There’s one more thing,” said Jensarod. “Take our wands. We don’t want any trouble.”

“I’ll take them,” said Molly, “and I’ll keep them for as long as it takes. When you—when you’re free, they will be here.” They handed their wands to her, and she patted their hands as she took them.

The four men, Ginny, and Harry Floo’d to the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic. Only a few people were there, and they all gawked as Harry led the way past the empty guard’s desk to the lifts. On the second level they walked past the Head Auror’s office to a smaller office near the training program wing. Harry knocked and opened the door; Professor Matthewson was behind a desk, his feet up, reading the _Evening Prophet_. He looked at Harry and put his feet down.

Harry and Ginny led the four uncles into the office. The moment they were all inside several things happened almost instantly. The door slammed itself shut, Harry and Ginny felt a force push them away from the four uncles and, with a loud clang, a metal cage suddenly appeared around them. They shrank together, looking frightened.

Matthewson jumped up and drew his wand; he peered closely at the prisoners. Jensarod Wilson put up both hands.

“There’s no need for wands, or this,” he said, looking at the enclosing bars. “We want to surrender. We asked Miss Weasley and Mr. Potter to bring us here.”

Matthewson stared at him, at Harry, and at the four men again.

“Hang on!” Harry said angrily. “We brought them here under our protection. We told them they wouldn't be mistreated, not like this!”

“Harry,” Jensarod called from behind the bars, “it’s okay.” He turned to Matthewson. “We came voluntarily and unarmed; we left our wands with Mrs. Weasley.”

“Molly Weasley has your wands?” The Auror glanced at Harry, who nodded, then pointed to the door. “Outside for a moment, please.”

He shepherded them into the corridor and closed the door. Harry turned to him, another angry word on his lips, but Professor Matthewson put his hand up.

“It’s an automatic Incarceration charm, I had nothing to do with it; it detects people who are wanted for crimes. But calm down, Harry, they’ll be well treated. We all know why they did it, and nobody’s lost any sleep over Fenrir Greyback. And I must say,” he added, “you two just brought in the only people still wanted for a major crime. Saliyah’s going to love it.”

“It was Harry,” Ginny said, ignoring Harry’s vigorous head-shake. “He deserves all the credit. They came to me, but I didn’t know what to do. Harry took care of everything.”

“But that’s—” Harry started to say.

Ginny wouldn’t let him continue. “He’s too modest, as you know, but it’s true. You can ask my brothers, they’ll say the same thing.”

“Well,” the Auror smiled, “it really doesn’t matter. I’m sure you helped, Miss Weasley.”

“Only a little,” she smiled back, and took Harry’s hand. “Do we need to stay? It’s getting late. Can we just say goodbye to them?”

They went back into the office; the four men standing silently in the cage turned their heads when the door opened.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said to them, “I really didn’t want this.” He looked at Matthewson. “Can they contact me if they need anything?”

“It’s not up to me, but considering all the circumstances, probably yes.”

“Good luck,” Ginny said. “we’ll all be thinking of you.”

“Thank you, Miss,” Jensarod said. “We’ll never forget you.” He put his hand through the bars, and Ginny shook it.

Matthewson told Harry and Ginny goodnight and they left the office. “I’m sure they’ll be okay,” Ginny said, “but it must be awful to be behind bars like that.”

“Why did you say all those things about me?” Harry asked when they were in the lift. “All I did was help bring them here.”

“You knew what to do and you were the one who did it. Besides, it’s better for you to get the collar than me.”

Harry chuckled. “Well, I’m going to tell Saliyah exactly what happened. I’ll let her decide.”

Ginny took his hand and swung their arms back and forth as they walked to the fireplaces. “I’ll bet she agrees with me.”

Harry sighed. “If she does, I’ll never argue with you again.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” Ginny kissed the end of his nose before stepping into the fireplace; Harry followed and they were both back in the kitchen of the Burrow.

They told everyone what had happened—no one had heard of the Incarceration charm—but Molly said she was going to send them food as long as they were in jail. Percy and Audrey still hadn’t returned, and everyone soon went off to bed. Harry and Ginny said goodnight on the landing outside her room, and the house was quiet.

The next morning they all Portkeyed to Hogsmeade. The Ministry had set up arrival points in the field behind The Three Broomsticks, just a few yards from the train station, and the Weasleys arrived as the Hogwarts Express was pulling in. They found Bill and Fleur, and she patted her stomach as they climbed into a carriage for the ride up to the memorial site. “It’s going to be pretty soon,” she smiled.

Everyone else walked up the lane and through the tall gates. Harry gave Ginny a kiss and headed for the castle. He was a participant in the morning event, although it had taken many people a lot of time to persuade him. Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Hagrid, Bill, Fleur, Stan, Tony . . . they had all argued that the significance of the memorial would be incomplete without him. Finally he agreed, and now he entered the Great Hall where the procession to the White Tomb was forming.

He joined the Minister for Magic, the Headmistress of Hogwarts, the centaur Bane, the house-elf Kreacher—wearing his cap on his head and the locket of Regulus Black around his neck—Tony Trostle, and Neville Longbottom, plus all the first-year students. The humans put on special formal dress robes, and as the great clock of the castle struck ten, they filed outside in a solemn procession. At the front were the village postmaster—old Rathbone Rastlebuck playing a mournful dirge on a Highland bagpipe—and the proprietor of Dervish and Banges, old Monitor Twohill, beating a steady, muffled cadence on a snare drum; both of them wore full tartan regalia including kilts.

In cool weather under cloudy skies they wended their way to the Black Lake, where the huge crowd was gathered before the White Tomb. There was not a sound coming from that crowd, and the wail of the bagpipe could be heard echoing off the surrounding hills. The procession approached and continued up the aisle between the seats. Harry glanced aside and saw Ginny discreetly blow him a kiss; he felt her pride and love fill him up and he smiled at her. Keesha was sitting near Ginny with her parents, and she had eyes only for Neville. Her parents nodded to Harry.

They walked towards a large platform, draped in the banners of the four Houses, set up in front of the Tomb. They climbed the steps—Bane clopping up last—and they all stood, about five feet above the ground, looking out over the assemblage of wizards, witches, Muggles, and magical creatures.

Harry couldn’t guess how many people were there; it had to be thousands, even more than had been at Professor Dumbledore’s funeral. He looked out and saw everyone from the village of Hogsmeade, everyone in the training program, even wizards and witches that he had met in the Leaky Cauldron the very first time he had been brought there by Hagrid. Dumbledore’s Army were there, near the back. Everyone he knew was there.

Off to one side stood a dozen centaurs, nervously stamping their hooves, their bows slung over their backs. In front, close to the Tomb, were a large group of house-elves, and as Harry watched, Winky pushed her way through and stood peering up only a few yards from him; her ladles hung from a rope tied around her waist.

Something in the sky caught Harry’s eye; he looked up and saw two thestrals wheeling overhead.

Madame Maxime, Hagrid, and Grawp were at the back of the crowd. Grawp, who was sitting on the ground, noticed Harry looking his way and waved; Harry waved back, and Grawp started to laugh, a peal of thunder that caused everyone to turn and some to shriek in fright. Hagrid said something to him, and Grawp looked down, abashed, but Madame Maxime patted his shoulder and he looked up smiling.

Grawp’s laughter had drowned out the bagpipe and drum. The two musicians were standing directly in front of the platform, and Rastlebuck looked up at Professor McGonagall who glared at Grawp. She nodded to Rathbone and the music ceased. For a moment there was stillness.

The three dozen first-years stood in two rows in front of the others. At a signal from the Headmistress, Abigail Abernathy said in a clear voice, “Elizabeth Derby!”

The silvery tone of a single bell sounded.

Sean Allen said, “Colin Creevey!” The bell rang again.

Muffled sounds of weeping could be heard as Claire Athair said, “Joseph Pierce!” The bell rang.

Emma Athair called out, “Fred Weasley!” The first years continued speaking the names of every person who had been killed, from the youngest to the oldest. When the students in the second row had finished, the ones in the first row continued. The last name was called by a Ravenclaw, Muhammad Mafour, “Remus Lupin!”

The bell rang, and the entire valley fell silent. After several minutes, the Headmistress stepped forward and gazed out at the scene.

Suddenly Harry felt tears in his eyes. He sought Ginny; she had got out of her seat and was kneeling in front of her mother; Arthur was at Molly’s side, supporting her as she sat. Molly was weeping, but she was not the only one. Many were, and a wave of emotion swept the crowd and those on the platform. Tony was weeping openly; Kingsley Shacklebolt passed his hand over his eyes and looked down; Neville wiped his face; and Minerva McGonagall’s eyes brimmed over.

She cleared her throat and raised her hand. “My friends! This _is_ a time for mourning. Don’t be ashamed of your tears. Weep for the ones who are not here, who suffered. You can see the magnificent castle—” she gestured towards Hogwarts “— that bears no outward scars of the awful battle. But be certain that the inner scars will never be completely healed, as your tears and mine bear witness. We must never forget what happened here, nor those who died. I urge you all to go to the Great Hall and look at the list of names on the wall, the names that were spoken by children who were not here a year ago, but whose presence proves that evil and malice did not triumph.”

Her voice caught, and she stopped, her head bowed, her hand on her face. Harry was standing behind her and without thinking he put his hand on her trembling shoulder. She turned her head and smiled tearfully.

She turned to the front and wiped her cheeks again. “Some of them were children who will never know how joyful a full life can be. They will never have children of their own, they will never play and work and live. We must never forget them, and we must never fail to recognize and fight evil in whatever form it shows itself, for otherwise more children will die and not know this beautiful world we live in.”

She turned and before Harry realized what was happening, she hugged him. Nothing in his life had surprised him more, and he almost staggered. Kingsley steadied him with a hand on his arm, and Harry slowly put his own arms around the Professor. She finally lifted her head and smiled through tears.

“I’m sorry, dear Harry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” A twinkle came into her eye. “It probably will never happen again.”

She stepped aside, and Kreacher shuffled forward. The old elf held himself erect, his hand over his locket. He inclined his head to Harry and spoke to the crowd in a croaking voice that surprised Harry with its volume. The murmurs that had passed through the crowd when it became clear that a house-elf was going to speak, ceased. The elves near the front pushed forward until they were almost underneath the platform, looking up with eager faces.

“We is your house-elfs!” Kreacher cried. “Kreacher was Harry Potter’s house-elf, but Harry Potter freed Kreacher!” He took the red cap from his head and waved it in the air. “But free Kreacher will always serve Harry Potter and his family and his friends, because Harry Potter and his family and his friends made all house-elfs free by killing the Dark Lord!”

He glared fiercely at the crowd with his huge eyes as his bat-like ears quivered. He turned and bowed to Harry. Harry bowed back, and thought he saw the elf smile.

Neville spoke next. Harry had never seen him so nervous; he knew that Neville had not wanted to do this, but the Headmistress had insisted that one student who had fought in the battle must speak, and she pointed out that no one else except Harry had faced Voldemort one-on-one. Keesha also urged him, and finally her uncle had spoken to him. Neville reluctantly agreed, and both Keesha and Harry had helped him compose a short speech.

Now Harry, standing right behind his friend, could see the piece of parchment shaking in Neville’s hand. He patted his shoulder and whispered, “This is harder than Voldemort, isn’t it?”

Neville gave him a momentary half-smile, then glanced over the crowd until he found Keesha sitting between his Gran and her father, Augusta Longbottom’s vulture-topped hat blocking the view of several annoyed people behind her.

Neville cleared his throat and peered at the parchment. “I—I didn’t really want to be up h-here, but lots of other people wanted me to, including the Minister for M-Magic, so I didn’t have much choice.”

There was some subdued laughter, and Neville looked up. He glanced at Kingsley who was smiling. Neville gathered his courage, took a breath, and continued.

“I’m not any different from the other students who fought, except for the ones who were killed. I found one of them on the lawn and I helped carry him back inside. That was Colin Creevey; he was one of the best, funniest, and bravest kids I ever knew. His parents are Muggles, and all I could think of when I saw that Colin was dead, is that Colin and his family are worth a thousand of any of the one’s who killed him. Some people think I was brave when I tried to attack Voldemort, but I couldn’t help what I did. I wasn’t being brave, maybe stupid, but not brave. Colin was the brave one, and I couldn’t let him go without trying to be half as brave as he was. Please don’t think about me. Think about Colin and all the others who died.”

There was silence as he put the parchment in his pocket and turned away. Harry embraced him.

Tony Trostle gave a short speech.

“Well,” he said in a voice almost as gruff as Kreacher’s, “I’m not really a man of words. I do better with my hands, building things. I just want to say that as bad as things got in Hogsmeade last year, we never gave up hope. We always knew that eventually we would win back our village. And what’s important is that we now know that we can’t let it happen again, we can’t let anyone just walk into our homes and our shops and tell us to do what we know is wrong. And what’s really great is that it was a bunch of students from Hogwarts, just kids, who showed us what we had to do. And now we know what we _can_ do, thanks to them.”

He finished before most people realized that he was done, and the delayed murmurs came to a sudden stop when Bane moved forward. He made a fierce impression with his dark beard and bare muscular torso. He swept the hushed, awed crowd with flashing eyes and addressed it with a strong, clear voice.

“I welcome you to our Forest. We fought with you. Your young were very brave, and some of them died. We mourn them with you. Among us, there is nothing more terrible than the death of a child. Even though they were not ours, we are proud of them because they were brave and they fought for their lives and their freedom. That is why we joined them. Do not forget them, and do not forget who fought alongside them!”

He bowed and stepped carefully backward, bowing his head to Neville, the Minister, the Headmistress, Tony, and finally to Harry. The centaurs at the side of the crowd stomped their hooves and waved their bows in the air.

Bane took Harry’s arm, startling him, and pushed him forward. “Here is the one you should be acclaiming,” Bane cried out, “for he is the bravest man I have ever known!”

Harry shook his head and pulled back. “Please,” he said in a low voice, “don’t do that.”

Bane made a noise in his throat and scowled, squeezed Harry’s arm almost painfully, and bent down, putting his face right in Harry’s. He spoke softly so that only Harry could hear, but his voice seemed to ring loudly in Harry’s ears.

“It is time, colt, for you to become a man. False modesty lies falsely on you. Your destiny was shown to you by the wizard lying in this Tomb, but if you do not grasp your destiny with all your might, your life will not be a happy one, no matter that your friends and your female love you as they love themselves. For then you will not love yourself. The evil that made you strike her would not have happened if you had been pursuing your destiny.” He bent lower and his eyes bore into Harry’s. “The centaurs know.”

He raised his head and pushed Harry forward again. Harry stared at him for a long moment before turning and looking over the crowd. He instantly found Ginny; when their eyes met, Harry knew that, somehow, she had heard Bane’s words.

Harry saw Ron and Hermione, Bill and Fleur, Dumbledore’s Army, the Bakers. Winky was looking up from just below him with her hands clasped in front of her chest and a big smile on her face. Arthur Weasley was smiling, proudly Harry suddenly realized, and Molly, sitting next to him, did not seem to need support any longer. At the back of the crowd Hagrid was beaming with tears running down his face into his beard, and Harry knew that they were both thinking about Hagrid’s walk out of the Forest, bearing Harry in his arms like a baby. Stan and Harriet were holding hands, and Stan gave a short pump of his fist when Harry looked at him.

They were all watching him. They were all hanging on his next word. They were all expecting something from him. The platform shook slightly as Bane shifted on his feet. The White Tomb loomed behind him, and he suddenly noticed a feeling coming at him from Ginny, a strange sensation of both power and danger: she had become aware of the Elder Wand, _her_ wand, entombed only a few yards away. He looked at her and his hesitation and reluctance vanished.

He spoke.

“I’m not used to talking in front of this many people, and centaurs, and elves, and giants, but I’m glad to have the chance, even if it’s at a sad time when I’m thinking about so many of my friends who died. There was a great victory over evil and bad people a year ago, and I’m proud of my own part in it. I was able to do some things that no one else could have done, but many others _would_ have done if they had been in my place. It wasn’t easy to do any of those things, except for one: it was easy to fight for my friends. That’s the difference, isn’t it? The one who tried to conquer me and conquer the world had no friends, and in the end he was powerless against me. Many of you heard about what I did, at the very end, that I walked into his camp and let him kill me. But—” Harry spread his arms wide “—as you can see, here I am.” The crowd answered with a murmuring chuckle.

“You may have also heard that I had some kind of special magic that saved me, but that’s not true; it was much simpler than that. What saved me was all the people who . . . who loved me, who still love me. I don’t know, maybe that sounds like something old-fashioned, but it’s true. I really would be dead if it wasn’t true.

“I know we can’t all love each other; that will never happen. But if there are people who love me, and there are other people who love them, and more who love _them_ , then isn’t that just as good? If I love my friends in Dumbledore’s Army, and they have friends who I don’t know but who love them, shouldn’t I be willing to fight for them, because _my_ friends love them? Maybe that’s asking a lot, but maybe if Tom Riddle had gone after those friends first, it would have made my friends weaker, and that would have made me weaker, and maybe I would have lost and been the one killed.

“There are lots of things I don’t know the answers to, but I do know the answer to that. And the reason I know is because of what happened to me a few months after I—we—won the Battle of Hogwarts. I was attacked again, by some of the same people I thought we had already beaten. But I had stopped fighting, I thought I could leave it to someone else. I was wrong and I almost paid with my life and the life of the person most dear to me. I don’t know what life is going to bring me; it’s been full of surprises so far, including some nasty ones. But I’m making a promise to everyone here. I promise that I will never stop fighting again. I—”

He had to stop when, for the first time that morning, applause and cheers broke out, beginning in the vicinity of Dumbledore’s Army and spreading everywhere. Harry looked at Ginny; her hands were pressed to her mouth and her eyes were gleaming. She mouthed, “I love you,” and without thinking, Harry blew her a kiss.

“You go, Harry!” came a cry from Dumbledore’s Army; it sounded like Dean Thomas, and when Harry looked in that direction he broke into a wide grin. The banner that had hung at Hogsmeade Station— _Dumbledore’s Army, Still Serving_ —was unfurled and waving over the crowd.

“You see,” Harry said, pointing to the banner, “we can’t be defeated if we don’t let ourselves be defeated. And I won’t. There’s too much worth fighting for. It’s that simple.”

He stepped back and Kingsley leaned over and said into his ear, “How can I follow that? You took my words away. Harry, that was brilliant.”

Professor McGonagall smiled, Neville pumped his hand, and both Kreacher and Bane made deep bows. The centaur said nothing, but his dark eyes held Harry’s for a moment, and Harry bowed in turn.

The Minister for Magic spoke to the crowd. “My friends,” he boomed, “there is nothing I can say after that, except, thank you, Harry.” When the applause stopped, he continued. “It’s a terrible thing to take words out of a politician’s mouth, so I’ll just say that this ceremony hasn’t gone exactly the way we expected. I, for one, pictured solemn speeches mixed in with solemn moments of silence. But what all the speakers have done is to show us that this is all about the gift of life, a gift that is given to us by both the living, like Harry, Kreacher, Neville, and Bane, and also by the dead, the honored dead, who live through their gift. Harry promised never to stop fighting, and I promise never to stop remembering.

“And now, let us have a moment of silence, in memory of all of those who suffered and died.”

A hush fell, broken by scattered sounds of weeping. Harry saw Ginny with her arm around Molly, who was bent over, covering her face with her hands. He noticed Dennis Creevey with two Muggles, his parents, no doubt; his mother was bent over just like Molly.

After a few minutes Professor McGonagall broke the silence and announced that tables were being set up on the lawn in front of the castle, and that luncheon would be served for everyone. She also announced that, at three o’clock, there would be a dedication ceremony near the gamekeeper’s cabin in memory of the students who had died. And promptly at five o’clock the Hogwarts Express would depart for London.

Harry climbed down from the platform and found Ginny with her family, all of whom were comforting Molly and each other. Arthur was sitting next to his wife, but stood when Harry approached and came to him. He took Harry’s arm and led him a few feet away.

“That was remarkable, Harry,” he said. “My admiration for you has just gone over the top. I know for a fact that Kingsley had planned to say something completely different. When he heard your words, he must have decided to throw his own speech away. Remarkable.”

Ginny, Ron, and Hermione had joined them. “That was not the speech you wrote,” said Hermione. “What made you change it?”

“Something someone said to me.” He looked at Ginny. “Another wake up call.”

She took his hand. “Let’s eat. I have to be in the castle half an hour before the ceremony.”

Dozens of small tents were set up on the lawn, with food-laden tables inside. The Great Hall could not accommodate the large number of people, so most students ate outside, even though the weather was getting worse. The clouds had lowered and a chilly, damp breeze blew from the north. Dumbledore’s Army sat together, and everyone wanted to hear about Dumbledore’s Regiment and its attack on the house outside Hogsmeade.

When it began to drizzle, Harry and Ginny moved inside with the others. It was still an hour before the second ceremony, so they went into the crowded Great Hall with Ron and Hermione and found the Weasleys at the Gryffindor table. At first there was no room for them to sit, but as the soft showers turned into a downpour, more people left, either to go wait on the train or to Floo back to their homes from fireplaces in the castle. Professor McGonagall stopped by to tell Ginny that the dedication would take place, no matter what the weather.

Soon there were seats for them, and Ron began eating again. “It’s a shame,” said Molly. “People should have some respect and at least try to go to your service, Ginny.”

“It’s alright, Mum. No one needs to get all wet and catch cold just to be there. It would be fine if it were all private.”

“Ginny,” Harry said suddenly, pointing to the Ravenclaw table, “there’s Mrs. Wilson. Come, I want you to meet her.”

They walked around the end of the Hufflepuff table and up the aisle. Ginny recognized Elizabeth Derby’s parents, as well as some of the other people who had come to Hogwarts a year ago to collect her remains. “I don’t remember seeing her grandmother,” she whispered to Harry.

When they stopped behind Sagittaria’s mother, the people around her looked up and Mrs. Wilson turned. “Harry!” she exclaimed. “It’s so good to see you. And this is your beautiful fiancée, Miss Weasley. Ginny, if I may, I’m delighted to meet you.”

She stood and shook Ginny’s hand. “I was not here a year ago, and I never got a chance to thank you. I’m so pleased that I could be here today. And . . .” She looked at her family. “We have heard that my sons are in custody at the Ministry.”

“Yes,” said Ginny. “They came to the Burrow last night, and Harry and I took them there. I think they’ll be well-treated. Oh,” she smiled, “and my mum said she’ll send them food. She’s good at things like that.”

“I’m sure she is, and that’s very kind. Please tell her that—”

She was interrupted by a cry from the Gryffindor table; everyone looked. Bill and Molly were holding Fleur who was trying to stand; the rest of the family were hovering around them, except for Ron and Percy who were still seated. Ron’s face was white and he looked as if he was in danger of losing everything he had just eaten.

“She’s having her baby!” Ginny cried, and rushed back with Harry trailing uncertainly. She almost crashed into Madam Pomfrey who was also pushing past the people who had stood, craning their necks to see.

“I will walk,” Fleur was saying insistently. “It is a baby, for goodness sakes. No one is ill.” Bill looked at the nurse.

“If she can walk, let her,” she said, “but let’s not dawdle. Veela babies come quickly.”

“Yes, zat is right, zey do not like to wait. Come, darling,” Fleur said to Bill, “let me ‘old your arm.” She saw Ginny and smiled. “You must not wait for me, chérie. I will come see it later.”

Ginny stared and Fleur patted her cheek as she passed, but cried out again and put her hand back on her abdomen. “Ahh! Anozer one. Vite, vite!”

The procession—Bill, Fleur, Madam Pomfrey, Molly, Arthur, and Madame Maxime who had also left the staff table—departed the Great Hall, and a buzz of conversation arose.

The Weasleys looked at each other. “Well,” George finally said, “the next generation arrives in style and right on time.”

“Shouldn’t we go upstairs too?” Ginny said, glancing at the door. “This is Mum and Dad’s first grandchild. I think we should be with them.”

“Let’s wait,” said Charlie. “I don’t think Fleur wants a mob around her, and besides, we came here to be with you, Gin. This afternoon is supposed to be your show.”

“‘ear, ‘ear,” George seconded. “Fleur wants you to do it.”

Ginny looked at a bemused Harry and almost laughed at his lost expression. “Sweetie, it’s only a baby. Fleur will be fine.”

“But she  was . . .”

“I’ll explain later,” Ginny giggled. “Just take deep breaths, and if you get dizzy put your head between your legs. And maybe Ron should do the same.”

Ron had now turned green, and was swaying slightly on the bench. Hermione was sitting next to him with her arm around him, a slightly sympathetic smile on her face.

“I’d take him up to the hospital wing,” she said to Ginny, “but I’m sure Madam Pomfrey would just chuck him out.” She stood and took his hand. “Come, dearest, let’s go outside. The fresh air will revive you nicely.”

George shook his head as Hermione led him out. “Poor Ron. I hope he can keep his lunch down. It took him quite a while to pack in all that food.”

“This is an interesting family,” Audrey Tinklebell remarked; Percy had gone rigid at Fleur’s first outcry, and was just now starting to relax.

“Wait till you meet Aunt Muriel,” George chortled.

At that moment Professor McGonagall walked up. She gave a nod to the family, and spoke to Ginny. “Because of the weather, we’ll meet in the Divination classroom down the hall. We should begin fairly soon; it looks like it will only get worse.”

Ginny gave Harry a quick kiss and followed the Headmistress out. Harry also followed and saw Ron and Hermione standing in the open front doorway; outside was a teeming rainstorm. Harry walked up to them.

“Is everything okay, mate?” he grinned at Ron. “It was getting a little stuffy in there, wasn’t it?”

“Ha ha. It was that clam chowder; it didn’t agree with me.”

Harry exchanged a glance with Hermione. “Well, what’s going to happen with this rain? Do you think they can cast a weather charm for a few minutes?”

“It would be easier just to put up a canopy,” said Hermione. “This is a shame. No one is going to be there. It’s not fair to Ginny.”

“I don’t think she minds,” Harry said. “She’s doing it for Elizabeth Derby, not for a crowd of people.”

Hermione glanced outside at the rain. “Well, shall we?”

They put on their cloaks, pulled their hoods up, and threw waterproofing charms on each other. They sloshed down the path to Hagrid’s cabin but turned off about two hundred yards from the castle. A few yards from the path was, indeed, a large white canopy.

They stood under it, and while Ron and Hermione talked quietly, Harry became lost in thought, his reverie going back to that day a year ago when he came within a few yards of this spot and saw Ginny bent over a body. How he had yearned for her, and how in one year that desperation had turned into utter joy and fulfillment!

They saw more people descending the path. The Derby family arrived, followed by Dennis Creevey and his parents; Emma and Claire came running across the lawn, splashing through puddles and ducking breathlessly under the canopy. Hagrid came and stooped down to get under; he had to sit on the ground because it was too low for him to stand. Everyone from Dumbledore’s Army came. The Weasleys arrived, and Charlie announced that the baby was expected momentarily.

As more and more people arrived, the magical canopy expanded and chairs appeared, forming a large ring around the central spot. The Derby family sat in the front row, and after a moment one of the wizards rose and came over to Harry, who was standing next to Hagrid with Ron and Hermione.

“I’m Lothar Derby, Elizabeth’s father,” he said to Harry. “John and James are my brothers. I believe you met them last night.”

“That’s right.” Harry offered his hand and Derby shook it. “They came to the Weasleys’ house and asked Ginny and me to help them surrender.”

The man gave a sigh. “Let’s hope for the best. We’ve been trying to get them to do that for several months. We were afraid the longer they stayed out, the worse it would be for them. At any rate, I want to pass on the thanks of the family.” He smiled sadly. “We seem to run into you and your friends at the worst of times. Maybe things will start to turn around now.”

“I hope so. This is really important to Ginny.”

The man nodded and went back to his seat. Harry looked at Elizabeth’s mother, sitting next to him; she was dressed in black robes, a stark contrast to her silver hair and looks that were as stunning as Fleur’s. She gazed at Harry, and he saw the same haunted look that had been in Molly Weasley’s eyes so often of late.

There were now several dozen people under the canopy. Harry took a seat in the front row and Ron and Hermione sat next to him with the rest of the family. A moment later they heard the wailing of the bagpipe, and a small procession appeared through the rain on the path from the castle. In the lead was Rathbone Rastlebuck again, playing another mournful tune. Next was Ginny, followed by Professor McGonagall, the rest of the Hogwarts staff, and the Minister for Magic. The music stopped and they entered under the canopy. In the silence the rain beat on the roof.

Ginny moved to the center of the circle; she was wearing a set of very formal dress robes that Harry had never seen before, and a formal witch’s hat. She glanced once at him and walked to the center and looked down at the very spot where Elizabeth Derby had died.

She stood there for a long time in complete silence. Harry saw Elizabeth’s mother, sitting across from him, weeping into a handkerchief; her husband’s arm was around her.

Ginny raised her eyes. “Something terrible happened here,” she said in a voice that trembled. “The world ended. Beauty vanished. Evil triumphed. I saw it happen and I have never felt so hopeless as I did at that moment. Elizabeth was only fifteen years old; she didn’t have to be here, but she decided to stay and fight. They caught her and killed her, right here.” Her voice broke. “I saw it happen.”

She bowed her head, and Harry knew that she was unable to continue. He closed his eyes and filled his heart with Ginny. She looked up and let her eyes go to his for a moment. She went on.

“That day, we won, we defeated evil. But what had vanished did not come back; it will never come back. And that is not right; it isn’t right that something as foul as what killed Elizabeth should be allowed to triumph. That’s why we are here. We are going to reverse that triumph, even though we cannot reverse Elizabeth’s death. On this spot, from this moment on, there will always be beauty and life, forever.”

Her voice was now strong, but tears were running down Ginny’s cheeks. As she took her wand out, Minerva McGonagall, Filius Flitwick, and Pomona Sprout all stepped forward. They formed a circle around the spot on the grass and pointed their wands.

First, a large stone fountain appeared; it was made of gleaming white marble with a large catch-basin. The upper part, from which water began to cascade, was in the shape of two hands cupped together towards the sky. Directly above it the canopy opened, exposing the fountain to the sky and the rain.

Professor Sprout stepped forward, and she and Ginny moved their wands. Lily pads appeared on the water’s surface in the basin; yellow, white, blue, and red flowers sprang from the lily pads. Vines rose out of the ground and climbed the pedestal, spiraling around it and around the basin.

Professor McGonagall and Ginny made wand gestures together, and there were gold and yellow and red fish swimming in the fountain.

Finally, the canopy drew back again and, with Ginny and Professor Sprout gesturing with their wands, a rowan tree sprang out of the ground next to the fountain. It grew until it was taller than the cupped hands, almost touching the canopy; its branches spread and feathery leaves formed on them. The branches bent under the drumming rain.

Ginny waved her wand once more and a white bird burst from the cupped hands. The dove soared into the air and returned to land gracefully on the topmost branch of the tree. After a moment it hopped down to a lower, more sheltered branch. It ruffled its tail feathers and settled.

“This is an eternal fountain,” Ginny said. “It will be here as long as Hogwarts stands. The creatures and flowers in it will never die. The rowan tree will grow here forever, and there will always be a family of doves living in it. The dead cannot be brought back to life, but their memory can. Elizabeth Derby, and every person who died in the battle, is now immortal.” Her voice dropped to a whisper that could barely be heard above the rain beating on the canopy. “Goodbye, Lizzie. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.”

She lowered her wand and stood with her head bowed as her tears fell on the grass. Ginny’s grief overwhelmed Harry and he covered his eyes with his hand as his own tears joined hers.

Slowly, Elizabeth’s mother rose and walked to Ginny and they embraced; Elizabeth’s father did the same. Other relatives pressed Ginny’s hand, and Elizabeth’s grandmother, Mary Wilson, took her face in her hands and kissed her brow.

Ginny was silent, nodding to some, smiling briefly to others. Gradually the tent emptied until only the Weasleys remained. Harry took Ginny’s hand and they all left. As the last person, Charlie, walked into the rain, the canopy vanished, leaving the fountain and the tree standing in the open air.

They hurried back to the castle and up to the hospital wing. A beaming Arthur met them at the door. He threw it open and they saw Fleur sitting up in a bed with Bill next to her and Molly on her other side; Olympe Maxime stood next to the bed. Fleur held her daughter, wrapped in a silver blanket that sparkled in the candlelight.

“‘ere is your niece, Victoire Weasley. She is as beautiful as I t’ought she would be. Now veela blood is Weasley blood. She will be a blessing to bot’ families.”

# # # #

The Ravenclaw match was two weeks later, and Ginny had the Gryffindor team honed to as fine an edge as possible. Dennis was still not perfect, but she was confident that her Chasers would be able to overwhelm the Ravenclaw defense. The great uncertainty, of course, was the Golden Snitch. There was always an element of luck in who saw it first, and she couldn’t help worrying. The night before the match, Ron and Hermione joined Ginny and Harry for dinner in the flat over the inn, and afterwards Hermione went off and read in an armchair while the others talked Quidditch around the blowfish table.

“You have nothing to worry about,” Harry said, reaching across and taking Ginny’s hand. “Even if we lose, which we won’t, the Harpies aren’t going to cancel your invitation. You’ve already shown them so much. They already love you. Look at how that coach reacted in the Hufflepuff match.”

“I know,” Ginny fretted, “but I want everything to be perfect. I wish I knew what they were planning.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Ron said. “You’ve trained this team better than half the professional clubs. There’s no way Ravenclaw can stop you. They may be smart, but so are you.”

“I’m worried about Jimmy. If Dennis misses a save, Jimmy’s going to start trying to cover for him, and that’ll throw the whole defensive scheme off. He started to do it in the last match, but Dennis saved the next one.” She got up and started pacing between the casement window and the picture window. “I won’t be able to sleep tonight, and then tomorrow I’ll be too tired to think straight, especially if Peakes screws up; it’ll just make me mad, and I’ll lose concentration, and Hector will spot the Snitch, and then—” She stopped in front of the picture window and looked out.

“They’re all here! Look!” She grinned at Harry and pointed out the window. The others came and saw McPherson, Bailey, and all six owlets perched on the top branch of the elm tree.

“Tell them to come to the other window!” Harry shouted as he ran to the casement window and flung it open. Ginny waved to the owls, and they all took off around the side of the inn; five seconds later McPherson was on his perch and Bailey was on the mantel with the owlets. They walked back and forth, knocking over photographs, clucking and chirping, and peering around the room. Peanut flew into the kitchen, but came zipping back when McPherson let out a loud screech.

Ginny was jumping up and down, clapping her hands and laughing. “They’re beautiful!” she cried. “This is brilliant!”

“Are they housebroken?” said Ron.

“Who cares? I wonder if they can carry messages yet.”

The owlets suddenly grew still. They lined up along the edge of the mantel under the critical eye of Bailey, and each one puffed out its chest.

“That looks like a yes,” said Harry. “Why don’t you send a note to the twins?”

“Good idea.” Ginny ran into the bedroom, came back with a small piece of parchment, and quickly scribbled a note. “Which one is Rosie? Maybe we’d better send Mocha too, just to keep peace in the family.”

Harry fetched another parchment and wrote another note, which he tied to the light brown owlet; Ginny picked out the russet one, and with two loud chirps, the two birds flew out the open window. Harry went to watch and had to duck as McPherson took off after them.

“Some adult supervision, I suppose,” Ron observed.

As they talked about the owlets, suddenly Ginny realized that she was no longer vexed about the match, and an hour later the owlets came fluttering back through the window with McPherson right behind. They plunked down on the table where all four humans were sitting, and held up their legs with notes attached.

“Maybe we all look alike to owls,” said Hermione with a grin; Rosie was standing in front of her, hopping on one leg, trying to keep her balance. She pointed at Ginny. “Over there. That’s the one you want.”

Rosie obediently hopped to Ginny who reached out and gently scratched the bird’s head. She took the note, and laughed when she read it. “Emma is a touch excited. What about Claire?”

“I can hear her shrieks from here,” Harry answered.

The owlets were exhausted, so Harry handed out treats, and the winged family flew back out the window and around to the elm tree; they roosted with the owlets on a low branch and the two parents on the top branch. Ginny watched them settle in and sat at the table. It was starting to grow dark, and she took Harry’s hand. “I better be getting back, or Momma Jimmy’s going to start worrying.”

Harry smiled and got up from the table. Ginny had decided to sleep at the castle so she could have breakfast with the team—as she had done before the two previous matches—and Ron and Hermione would stay in the flat in the bed while Harry took the red rug.

They all walked back to Hogwarts in the warm spring evening. Harry gave Ginny a good-luck snog in the common room, and he, Ron, and Hermione returned to the inn.

The next morning the weather was perfect: blue skies, cool temperatures, and almost no wind. The trio got to the stadium early and claimed a row for the Weasley family. George and Angelina were next to arrive, then Molly, Arthur, and Charlie from the Burrow, and finally Percy and Audrey. They saw the teams arrive and go to their dressing rooms. It was almost game time when Bill and Fleur arrived; Bill was carrying Victoire wrapped in blankets, and all the witches around them oohed and aahed when he handed the baby to Fleur.

“Don’t forget the muffling spell,” Molly said to Bill with a worried frown.

Harry, sitting between Fleur and Ron, peered at Victoire. Fleur pulled the blanket from the baby’s head and Harry saw that her hair, which had been long, dark, and wet the last time he saw her in the hospital wing, was turning into a layer of short silvery down. Victoire yawned and smacked her lips; her eyes were closed and she sighed. Harry marveled at how much she resembled her mother; Victoire was indeed a beauty.

“She is sleeping,” said Fleur. “She is a perfect baby, she sleeps, zen she eats, zen she sleeps. She never cries.”

Harry remembered the other infant he knew, Teddy Lupin, and once again felt a pang of guilt; he had not gone to see Andromeda as he had told her he would at Sagittaria’s funeral, and he promised himself he would do it soon. He thought of the two babies and smiled to himself, wondering what Teddy would do with his hair color if he and Victoire were put together.

The stadium was now full, and the Gryffindor section, just behind the Weasleys, was in full throat, led by the roars and shrieks of Emma and Claire in their griffin costumes. Across the way was the Ravenclaw section, a sea of blue and bronze. A large blue eagle was parading back and forth in the stands, knocking people out of their seats with its flapping wings.

“That has to be Luna,” Ron said. “No one else would do something like that.”

“Isn’t their eagle supposed to be gold?” Harry asked.

“I think so, but maybe she thought it would clash with her hair.”

Harry began to feel a sense of heightened anxiety, and at that moment the teams walked out onto the pitch and he knew it was coming from Ginny. She didn’t look up at him, but scanned the Ravenclaw team, nodding to their Seeker, Hector Freeman, who nodded back. Madam Hooch released the balls and blew her whistle; the match began.

Ravenclaw’s strategy was quickly obvious. They played their third Chaser, sixth-year Albert Newton, as though he was a Beater; he never flew past the mid-point of the pitch. The result was that Ravenclaw’s offense was completely anemic, but the Gryffindor Chasers were blocked from mounting a sustained attack of their own. In addition, the Ravenclaw Chasers played a good twenty feet higher than was normal. Ron was the first to notice.

“You see that?” He pointed to the two Ravenclaw Chasers; they were not level with the hoops, but several yards higher. “The bastards are helping the Seeker. The higher they fly the more they can see. No one’s going to score a goal in this match.”

Soon most of the crowd had also figured it out, and jeers and whistles began coming from students, especially Gryffindors. Harry shaded his eyes and cast around, looking for the Golden Snitch.

High overhead, Ginny was circling the stadium at a faster clip than she normally flew. She had immediately seen what the Ravenclaws were doing; she had read about this very tactic in her Harpies book. The counter for it was two-fold. First she signaled Jimmy to move forward so that he was positioned between the Gryffindor Chasers and Will Reynolds, the other Beater; if the Ravenclaws were not going to bother attacking, Gryffindor could afford to play loose with its Beaters.

Second, by speeding up her own sweep, she could cover more space, have a better chance at spotting the Snitch, and wouldn’t have to accelerate as much if Hector Freeman saw it first. The only problem was, if the Snitch appeared behind her, it would take longer to turn. On balance, Ginny calculated that she was better off flying faster, which was, after all, an advantage of riding a Firebolt.

Jimmy was delighted to become part of the Gryffindor attack, and soon he completely abandoned any pretense of playing defense. It paid off when a Bludger aimed at Demelza Robins instead hit Jimmy in the face, allowing her to move in for a clean shot. She scored, and Gryffindor led ten to nil.

But there were no more goals after that. Ravenclaw refused to attack; they were playing for time, hoping that Hector would catch the Snitch. And Jimmy now had to cope with a bloody nose and an eye that was swollen almost completely shut. The game became a test of patience, and the crowd grew more and more impatient.

Harry could feel Ginny’s frustration. She kept circling, looking around for the Snitch. The match went on, the jeers and whistles grew louder, but Ravenclaw refused to budge. While everyone was distracted by the Quaffle’s constantly being dropped by both sides, Hector Freeman spotted the Snitch.

But Harry had also seen it, almost the instant Hector did; he had not let himself be distracted. The Ravenclaw Seeker dove, and Harry's  insides lurched as he realized that Ginny was on the opposite side of the stadium, watching the Ravenclaw Chasers. But then she dove, too, a streak of red and gold flashing across the pitch.

Hector was much closer, but he was blind to everything else, including Jimmy Peakes rising up from below, blood streaming from his nose, intent only on blocking the Ravenclaw Seeker. Hector had to swerve to avoid a collision, and Ginny arrived at the Snitch a half-second before he did.

The Gryffindor section exploded in a great shout, with a lion’s roar reverberating around the whole stadium. Ginny circled and dove towards Harry; she zoomed past him and he could see her triumphant grin as she held up the Golden Snitch.

Ron put his mouth close to Harry’s ear. “I have no idea how she did that,” he shouted over the cheers. “She was looking the wrong way, then all of a sudden she was diving.”

“She’s good!” yelled Harry as he applauded. “She’s just damn good!”

The teams headed into their dressing rooms, and the Weasleys waited in the stands for Ginny to reappear. They talked about the match and how well Ginny had adjusted to the Ravenclaw strategy. Charlie said that he had seen three Holyhead Harpies sitting nearby, taking notes and commenting on the match. Victoire woke up and wanted to eat, so Fleur put a blanket around her and the baby, and served lunch. The Athair twins came down to sit with them—they had taken off their griffin costumes—and told Harry what excellent messengers Rosie and Mocha were.

Ron poked Harry in the ribs and he looked down. Several people were standing in front of the stands below them: Ginny, Madam Hooch, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Flitwick. Ginny was waving, and Harry realized that she wanted him.

“What’s going on?” he said to Ron. “She doesn’t look happy.”

“Dunno. Neither does Flitwick.”

The stands were almost empty except for the Weasleys and a few other parents waiting for their children, and they all watched as Harry descended to the pitch. He climbed over the railing and looked at the serious faces of the three professors.

“Hi, sweetie,” he smiled at Ginny. “Great match. The Quidditch Cup is yours.”

Ginny frowned, but Madam Hooch spoke first. “Perhaps it is, Mr. Potter, but first we want to know if there was communication between you and Miss Weasley during the match, especially at the end.”

“Communication? What are you talking about?” Harry was astonished, but also angry at the question. “I was sitting in the stands and Ginny was a hundred feet up in the air. How could I communicate with her?”

“There you have it, Rolanda,” Minerva McGonagall said. “Nothing happened. Miss Weasley caught the Golden Snitch fair and square. The Cup belongs to Gryffindor.”

“Not so fast, Minerva,” squeaked Professor Flitwick. His bushy eyebrows were knitted in a rare scowl. “There is no way Miss Weasley could have seen the Snitch at the moment she dove. Someone tipped her off, didn’t they, Mr. Potter?”

Harry couldn’t believe his ears. Two mature, intelligent, and otherwise friendly adults were arguing because one of them would have the Quidditch Cup in his or her office for a year, while the other one would have an empty shelf. He couldn’t help himself, he started to laugh.

“Mr. Potter!” said Madam Hooch. “If you don’t mind, I would like your solemn word as a former student that you did not illegally signal to Miss Weasley the whereabouts of the Snitch.”

“Of course,” he said. “Er, I mean of course not. Ginny’s the best Seeker in the history of Hogwarts and she’s about to become a professional. She’s good! She has a sense for the game. How can you deny her a victory when Gryffindor was clearly the better team?”

Hooch turned to Professor Flitwick. “I’m sorry, Filius. I must accept Harry’s word. The Cup goes to Gryffindor.”

The tiny professor glared at her, turned, and stalked off the pitch. Harry had never seen him angry like that, and he marveled at the power the game of Quidditch held over people.

The rest of the family had climbed down and, after everyone had a chance to congratulate Ginny, they left for the Hog’s Head and lunch. Winky had prepared a great victory feast—“Winky knows that Ginny Pott—Ginny Weasley has won the Quidditch Cup!”—and it was a merry afternoon in Hogsmeade.

Late in the evening the last celebrants, Ron and Hermione, departed for home. Harry and Ginny sprawled on the red rug in front of a small fire. Harry was on his back and Ginny was using his stomach as a pillow.

“It’s over, love,” she sighed. “No more Quidditch at Hogwarts.”

“You went out with a glorious bang, though. You were brilliant, the way you adjusted to their tactics.”

Ginny sat up and leaned on her arm. “Harry, I did feel something up there. I know it was you, and I know you didn’t do it deliberately. Can you remember what happened?”

He looked up at her from the rug. “I had kind of a scared feeling. Are you telling me that you felt that? I wasn’t trying to tell you, I just reacted because I was sure that Hector was going to get the Snitch.”

Ginny was silent for several moments. “This is not good. If I had been flying for the Harpies and this happened, it would be a scandal; I would be kicked off the team.”

Harry sat up. “That’s ridiculous! You didn’t do anything, and neither did I, for that matter. How can you say it’s a scandal?”

“It’s happened before. Ask Ron. There’s always been problems with people using magic to get an advantage. And if it came out that my boyfriend—Merlin, I mean my husband—was passing me signals, it would be bad for both of us. It’s illegal, Harry, it’s cheating. Think of what something like that would do to your own career.”

“If it’s cheating, why didn’t you say something to Hooch? Does the Cup belong to Ravenclaw?”

“Don’t you think I haven’t thought about that? But it wasn’t deliberate, and when I felt you, I didn’t know for certain what it was. It wasn’t all that specific, it just made me look.”

“Ron said you dove before you looked.”

She shook her head, “No, he was mistaken. I looked and saw the Snitch. Don’t you see, love? If that’s what Flitwick thought too, it must have seemed like I dove blindly, but I didn’t.”

Harry stared at her. “You’re saying that I can’t go to any of your matches?”

Ginny nodded, and felt tears come to her eyes as she looked at Harry’s stricken face. “Yes,” she whispered, “I think that’s what I’m saying.”

Harry slumped back onto the rug. Ginny put her hands on either side of his shoulders and leaned over. “It’s awful, but I don’t see any way out. It would be impossible for either of us to completely control our feelings. It’s bound to happen again.”

Harry reached up and pulled her down so that her head was on his chest. He stroked her hair. “It’s okay. All I need to know is that my beautiful, brilliant wife is a Quidditch star.”

“Oh, Harry, don’t say that,” Ginny was now crying. “I —”

But Harry’s mouth was on hers. They both felt an overwhelming need, not a physical need but a need to let the world know that nothing mattered but their kiss.

Ginny was on top of Harry as they clung together. The kiss went on, and still their need grew. Harry’s hands went down her body and he pulled her shirt out of her jeans. She sat up and violently, almost angrily, flung it away. They both stood. Ginny’s eyes blazed and tears still streaked her face as she ripped off her own clothes. Harry did the same with his, then swept her up in his arms. He kicked open the bedroom door and carried her to the bed. In a moment the covers were thrown back and everything else in the world disappeared.


	51. Harpy Heaven

Harry and Ginny stayed in the flat Sunday morning, talking about what had happened at the end of the Ravenclaw match, trying in vain to think of a way around it so that he could go to her matches if she became a Harpy. Ginny feared that it was impossible, that if anything, the problem would get worse because every day they could feel their closeness growing.

After it became clear that they could think of nothing, they moved the love seat so that it was in front of the picture window and sat watching the owlets cavort in the elm tree. Ginny rested her head on Harry’s shoulder and held his hand to her lips.

“Peanut is the smallest but she’s a trouble-maker,” she said.

Whenever another owlet wasn’t looking, Peanut would hop towards it and give it a shove, knocking her sibling off the branch. The victim would squawk and fly back up and perch again, glancing at McPherson, sitting on the branch above, watching benignly but not interfering.

“Where’s Bailey?” Harry said. “She usually keeps the brat in line.”

“I had to send a note to Mum. Now she wants the twins _and_ the Prewetts to be flower girls.”

“That sounds like progress. At least she’s conceded the twins.”

“I know. I’ll probably agree. Time’s growing short, and I’m going to be busy.”

Next Saturday were the tryouts, and Harry and Ron were planning to work out at the Quidditch pitch with Ginny during the week. She had not practiced much at the Chaser position during the year, and she wanted to get back some of the feel for it.

“You don’t think I should go to the tryouts, do you?” Harry asked as Peanut launched an attack on Orion, considerably the bigger of the two. This time the intended victim jabbed his beak at Peanut, provoking a storm of squawks and hoots from all the owlets. McPherson finally had enough and let out one very loud screech. The owlets all ducked their heads and looked up apprehensively, but settled down, at least for the moment.

“They don’t let anyone watch,” said Ginny. “But even if they did, it wouldn’t be a good idea. We’re just going to have to get used to it. I’m as sorry about it as you are.”

Harry sighed. They watched the owls, and he said, “It’s getting stronger, but what is it? Fleur said she heard about it but never saw it. Maybe Dumbledore knows. Let’s ask him when we see him after the wedding.”

“Why don’t we talk to him now?”

Harry considered. “We’d have to ask McGonagall to use her office. Do you feel comfortable with that?”

“We’ll do it after the wedding.”

Early in the afternoon they Floo’d to the Burrow; everyone was coming for dinner, but only Charlie, Bill and Fleur were already there. Molly and Fleur wanted Ginny to try on her wedding gown and Harry was forthwith banished from the house, so he walked by himself down to Fred’s grave.

He sat on the bench under the oak tree, watching clouds sail past and listening to birds singing in the woods. He looked back at the Burrow and reflected on how far he had come since last summer. He had been so blithely innocent, not letting a single serious thought interfere with his idyll with Ginny; even all the work at the inn was devoid of seriousness, now that he thought about it. He had wanted to take a vacation from life, and imagined that he could have it without care or consequence.

How wrong he had been, and how right Bane was. But now his life was all about real things: his plans to become an Auror, and Saliyah’s plan to push him along as hard as possible; his successful rescue of Keesha; the capture of Umbridge and the Death Eaters; the “capture” of Elizabeth Derby’s uncles; and, most of all, his upcoming marriage.

The reality of _that_ was growing stronger by the day. Sometimes when Ginny was at school and he was at the inn, he would lay awake at night wondering if he would be able to stand the happiness of always having Ginny with him. Even though they spent almost all their weekends together, there was an element of transience about it, a feeling that his life was constantly stopping and waiting for something. It was as if part of himself was being detached every Sunday evening when he dropped Ginny off in the common room or the entrance hall.

He didn’t know why just saying some words to each other and receiving an official parchment from the Ministry of Magic would change that. But as he sat back with his eyes closed, his hands clasped behind his head, and the sun warming his face, he knew that their wedding would be more than just words and a marriage certificate. Something was going to happen, something wonderful that would make him and Ginny part of each other forever. He smiled and basked.

Footsteps approached; he opened his eyes, and saw Ginny with Ron and Hermione walking towards him.

“You should see her in that dress,” said Ron. He looked at Hermione with a lecherous grin. “You should wear one of those at our wedding.”

Hermione arched her eyebrows. “Is that a proposal or just a proposition?”

“Um.” Ron turned red and looked at Harry in panic.

“Don’t look at me, mate,” Harry laughed. “I’ve already done that. It’s up to you now.”

Hermione took Ron’s arm and put her hand on his cheek. “That’s alright, sweetie. I’ll take it as a long-term thought process.”

“But if you say another word about my gown, there won’t _be_ a long term,” said Ginny with a scowl.

“Sure, Sis, not a word, I promise,” Ron said hastily.

Ginny glared at him, just to make sure he got the message, and sat next to Harry. Hermione conjured a blanket and she and Ron sat on the ground.

“I have some news,” Hermione said, and beamed at Harry and Ginny. “I’ve officially joined the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Look!”

She pulled out a badge like Harry’s. It had the same gold star, but instead of _Auror_ , the words _Magical Law Enforcement_ were stamped across it, and the background was silver instead of blue.

“I start tomorrow,” she said. “They’re sticking me in the Improper Use of Magic Office, but I’m hoping it won’t be for long.”

“So you’re not Ron’s boss yet,” said Ginny with a grin.

“Why are you picking on me?” said Ron. “What did I ever do to you?”

“Since we don’t have three or four months, I’ll skip that question.”

“Siblings. Honestly,” said Hermione, shaking her head at Harry. “There’s something to be said for not having any.”

Harry wanted to know more about her new job. “So will you just be writing up citations for underage magic? I could help you with that; I have two of them buried in my Hogwarts trunk.”

“Oh, no, they have clerks for that. But this will interest you. When you Apparated into Hogwarts while it was sealed, you stirred up a little bees’ nest. First it went to the Department of Mysteries, but they didn’t think it was mysterious enough to bother with. So they tried the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, but they apparently don’t normally get involved with elf magic. So, the only place they could think of to investigate it was the Improper Use of Magic Office. Don’t you see? You used magic improperly, so . . .”

Harry laughed. “That’s exactly how the Ministry gnomes would see it. So they’re letting you figure out how house-elves can Apparate through a sealing charm. Did Flitwick find out anything when he talked to Kreacher?”

“Nothing. I think Kreacher didn’t know what to make of a wizard his own size. I’m hoping they’ll assign the case to me.”

“And there is no doubt in my mind that you will solve it,” said Ron.

Hermione kissed him and he lay back on the blanket. She took his hand and they were all quiet, until Ginny got up and went to the edge of the woods and started picking wildflowers. She put the spray on the grave and Harry came and stood next to her.

“I get moments when I think I’ll break down,” Ginny said. “Sometimes I can’t stand his not being here, I get so angry I want to scream. When you said those things at the memorial, all I could think of was seeing Percy carry him into the Great Hall.”

She turned to Harry with tears in her eyes. “Harry, don’t ever leave me. If something happened to you I couldn’t go on.”

He put his arms around her “Hey, what brought this on? I’m not going anywhere, and if Tom Riddle couldn’t kill me, no one can.”

“I’m being silly, I know,” she sniffled, wiping her face. “This is one of those moments I was talking about. It’s just that now I know what it’s like to lose someone who was such a part of me, and you . . . you are so much more.”

She buried her head against him; Harry stroked her hair. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “I will always be here. I will always be with you.”

She nodded without lifting her head. “I know, but Fred was such a big part of me, and you are just as big, but I’m also part of you, don’t you see? Sometimes I feel that when you leave me at school and go back to the inn, you’re taking part of me away with you. Harry, that scares me a little. You used to have part of Voldemort inside you, and now you have me.”

“And when we get married, I’ll never leave you. I was just thinking the same thing before you came down here. No one will ever keep us apart. When we have to go to work every day, even then it won’t be like it is now. I’ll know that you’ll be waiting for me or I’ll be waiting for you, every night for the rest of our lives.”

Ginny glanced through her tears at Ron and Hermione who were discretely trying to ignore their conversation. “Oh, yes,” she whispered, grinning at Harry, “I’ve thought about that too. And don’t think I’m not going to try to wear you out every night.”

Harry laughed, and their two friends looked at them. “I can’t wait,” he whispered, and kissed her.

Ron’s coughing fit brought them out of their snog. The four spent the rest of the afternoon wandering through the woods and around the Burrow, until Ron’s unerringly accurate stomach clock informed them that dinner was on the table.

# # # #

As the next week went by and the day of the tryouts approached, Ginny grew more and more nervous. On Monday, her nightly letters sounded so anxious that for the rest of the week Harry Floo’d from the Ministry directly to Hogwarts and ate dinner with her in the Great Hall. After he and Ron had worked with her in the stadium, he kept her company wherever her jitters and restlessness took her: Hagrid’s cabin, the White Tomb, even the Forbidden Forest. On Thursday evening, Ginny wanted to go to the Room of Requirement.

She found a chamber that was similar to the last one—it had a bathtub filled with steaming water—but instead of a bed, there was a long, contoured, padded table with a book and a box sitting on it. The book contained photographs showing a witch lying on the table and a wizard giving her a massage. The box contained bottles of oils and balms, and an assortment of balls, rollers, and other massage devices that were pictured in the book.

Harry studied the pictures for a few minutes while Ginny undressed and stretched out on the table on her stomach. He started to massage, beginning with her neck and shoulders. They discovered that if he opened the book and propped it against the carton, the people in the pictures spoke and told him what to do. After half an hour Ginny was purring contentedly; Harry was also having a pleasant time kneading, rubbing, and pounding Ginny’s anatomy, and by taking deep breaths he managed to otherwise control himself and stay focused.

After another half hour, Harry’s hands and arms were sore and tired, but Ginny had melted into the padding and was feeling wonderful. He helped her up and led her to the tub; it was smaller than the other one and only Ginny could fit in, but there were low, padded benches around it for Harry to kneel on while he bathed her. She stayed in for an hour, emerging relaxed and wrinkled. He dried her off with a large, fluffy towel, and combed and brushed her hair until it was dry.

They returned to the common room and, after saying goodbye until Sunday, they went to their separate beds. Ginny, now completely relaxed and tension-free, fell asleep immediately; Harry tossed and turned restlessly for hours, unable to keep out of his mind the image of Ginny’s lovely form lying on the table under his hands.

# # # #

The Harpies scheduled a Portkey for Ginny and Regina Rohrback, Hufflepuff’s only seventh-year Chaser, who had been completely surprised when she got the invitation. “I look on it as a free trip to Holyhead,” she had told Ginny with a smile. “If anything comes of it, that’ll be a bonus.”

Ginny wasn’t sure herself why the Harpies had invited Regina; she was a very competent Chaser, but certainly not the best in school, that being Demelza, but who was only a sixth-year. Regina had unpretentious skills and didn’t seem to be all that interested in a Quidditch career. But Ginny liked her, which was good because they would be sharing a room.

Early Friday afternoon the two girls reported to Madam Hooch’s office with their brooms and bags; Professor McGonagall and Madam Sprout were also there to wish their students well, and at one o’clock the Portkey on the desk—an old Quidditch gauntlet—glowed blue and they found themselves in a large, light, airy room. Through a row of open windows along one wall they could see, across open fields, a Quidditch pitch and the ocean about a quarter mile beyond. The building they were in seemed to be set atop a hill, and a glance out the windows on the other side showed no other habitations nearby.

Photographs of Quidditch matches and Harpies players hung on the walls. At one end of the room was a fireplace with a large trophy case standing next to it filled with gold and silver trophies.

The Portkey had delivered Ginny and Regina to a table with a witch in dark green Harpies robes sitting behind it; two other tables were nearby. Ginny stepped up and the witch glanced at her without expression.

“Name?”

“Ginny Weasley.”

The witch glanced at her again, this time for a longer moment, and ran a quill down the parchment in front of her. She stopped at the bottom of the list and put a check mark next to Ginny’s name. “Room 27, through the door over there, up a flight and turn left. Next.”

“Is there a schedule?” Ginny asked. “Where do we eat?”

“There’s a packet in your room. Next.”

Ginny raised her eyebrows at Regina and stepped aside. The witch didn’t even glance at the Hufflepuff girl, so they picked up their gear and walked to the door across the room that the witch had indicated. Suddenly a loud rushing noise came from their right, and they saw another young witch appear with her broomstick and her luggage. She peered around for a moment and walked to a table, where the registration witch greeted her.

“I know why she was being such a twit,” Ginny said as they climbed the stairs. “She’s Carrie Kacker. She’s a second-string Chaser so she probably figures we’re after her job.”

Regina giggled. “You might be, but I don’t think she has much to worry about from me.”

They came to a door marked 27. The room was spartan, with two cots, two night tables, one small closet, and shades on the window.

“No chairs? No candles?” said Regina. “I guess we’re supposed to use our wands.”

A packet of parchments tied in green ribbon lay on each bed. Ginny threw her bag down, leaned her broom against the wall, and picked up a packet. She waved her wand, trying to conjure a chair, but nothing happened. She swore. “They’ve set a charm. We can’t use magic in here.”

Regina had opened her packet and was flipping through the parchments. “It says here they don’t want people trying to jinx each other.” She giggled again.

The packet contained parchments describing the history of the Holyhead Harpies and the immediate surroundings of their training facilities. They were located in a Muggle reserve west of the town, in the northwestern corner of Wales, due east across the Irish Sea from Dublin. The facilities consisted of the clubhouse they were in and the Quidditch pitch; both structures were invisible to Muggles.

According to another parchment, they would take their meals in the large common room where they had arrived. They had to be back in their rooms by nine o’clock, and wands out by ten. The first tryout session was tomorrow morning at nine, with more tryouts in the afternoon. The final cuts would be made on Sunday morning at the third session. No one was allowed to leave the grounds during the tryouts. They were not allowed to send or receive owls. The room downstairs was converted into a lounge except for mealtimes, and people could socialize there, or else gather in their rooms. All magic was strictly forbidden except for the Lumos charm. Ginny was glad that Harry had not even tried to come to Holyhead; their “connection” would have been detected easily.

She felt her locket underneath her blouse, and touched her ruby ring. She never wore the ring during practice or a match, and she would leave it in her room during the tryouts, but she wondered about the locket. It had never given her any sign of holding magical powers, except for those emerald eyes. She smiled to herself; maybe that wasn’t magic at all, just the effect Harry had on her.

She opened her bag and took out the photograph of Harry that she kept in her dorm room, and put in on her nightstand. “My sweetie,” she whispered. “I miss you already.”

“That’s a nice picture,” Regina said; she was sitting on her bed, also unpacking. “Do you have a date for the wedding?”

“July 17, two months away.”

“You’re lucky,” Regina said a little wistfully. “I don’t mean that you’re getting married, but that you have someone like him.” She grinned. “He broke a lot of hearts two years ago when he started dating you.”

Ginny gazed at the photo; Harry winked and blew her a kiss, and she blew one back without thinking, then laughed, a little embarrassed. “I know I’m lucky. He’s the most wonderful wizard in the world.”

They decided to go see the pitch, so they donned their House Quidditch robes, took their brooms, and went downstairs. They greeted three witches coming up the stairs with their brooms and luggage, and it seemed to Ginny that they stared at her for a moment. They definitely started whispering loudly to each other after they had passed.

Down in the common room, Ginny saw Brenda Touron, the scout who had been at the Slytherin match last November. She was talking to another witch and Ginny felt a thrill when she recognized the Harpies first-string Chaser and leading scorer, Jackie Lamour. Ginny stood behind Jackie with Regina until she caught Touron’s eye.

“Ah, Miss Weasley and Miss Rohrback,” the scout said; Jackie turned and smiled at them.

Ginny felt herself blush, and her brain froze. “I—I— We just got here, and we were—we were wondering.”

The two witches looked at her expectantly. Ginny swore to herself, and took a breath. “I’m sorry. Miss Lamour, I’m Ginny Weasley, and you’ve always been my favorite player.” The Chaser nodded, and Ginny felt even more embarrassed. “I sound like an idiot.”

This time the witches laughed, and Jackie held out her hand. “Welcome to Harpy Heaven, as we fondly call our little home.” She shook Regina’s hand too.

“We wanted to see the pitch,” Ginny said, trying to collect herself. “Is that okay?

“Of course,” the scout replied. “Just don’t fly above the hoops and stay inside the walls. We shrink the magical screens when we’re not using it.”

“I wonder if Muggles come around here much,” Regina said as they followed the path to the pitch that Jackie had shown them.

Ginny shrugged. “I would guess not, otherwise the team wouldn’t stay here.”

In a few minutes they were inside the stadium. Being only a practice pitch, it was smaller than the stadium at Hogwarts. Ginny mounted her broom and kicked off. She did a circuit, circled the hoops at one end, and took off for the other end, bending low and accelerating quickly. She hadn’t tied up her hair, and it streamed behind her as her robes billowed. She knew she cut a dramatic figure when she did that—red hair and red robes flashing across the sky. She let out a whoop and zipped between two of the hoops, cut sharply to the right and flew back over the pitch.

Regina was also in the air and Ginny watched her fly. Ginny hadn’t ever paid much attention to her; during the Hufflepuff match she had concentrated on finding the Snitch, and when she was just a spectator during Hufflepuff’s other matches she tended to watch the Seekers and not the Chasers. But the girl was not without skill. She was flying a Nimbus 2001, neither the fastest nor the slowest broom around, and she had an air of dogged persistence about her. Ginny calculated that she wasn’t one to be easily ridden off the Quaffle.

They flew for about ten minutes, and more witches started arriving on the pitch, all with their brooms and wearing a variety of Quidditch robes. Ginny actually recognized one or two as players from other clubs in the league who had recently been let go by their teams. Soon the air was crowded, and Ginny and Regina landed. They walked over to a group of four witches watching the flyers. They all introduced themselves, and when Ginny said her name they looked at her with interest.

“You’re still at Hogwarts?” asked one, a lanky blonde named Felicity Bacon; she was wearing what looked like old Ravenclaw robes and was holding a Firebolt 21, the same model as Ginny’s.

“That’s right, but only for one more month. Were you in Ravenclaw?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t finish.”

“Why, did you want to play Quidditch?” Ginny said without thinking. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be nosey.”

The witch shrugged. “I wanted to play, but I left because I got pregnant.” Her friends tittered and she scowled at them. “It’s no secret, everyone knows, so don’t fret about it,” she said to Ginny, who had turned red.

Ginny decided to keep her mouth shut, and after a few minutes of listening to the ladies rate the off-the-pitch prowess of various male players, she and Regina left.

“That was interesting,” the Hufflepuff girl giggled as they walked back to the clubhouse. “It’s a different world out here, that’s for sure.”

Ginny snorted. “Maybe, but I’ve known some Hogwarts girls who do a pretty good imitation of that lot.” She was thinking of Romilda Vane. “Maybe they don’t sleep around yet, but it’s a possible career path.”

Ginny didn’t want to talk about it any more, at least not with Regina Rohrback, so she changed the subject and asked Regina about her family—they were from Surrey, but not near Little Whinging—and she was planning to join her father’s cauldron business after she left Hogwarts.

“I hope you don’t run into my brother, Percy,” Ginny said dryly, back in their room. “But you’re probably safe. He used to work in some ridiculous Ministry office that measured the thickness of imported cauldrons, but he’s in Magical Law Enforcement now. If he ever gives you any problems, let me know and I’ll shame him into leaving you and your dad alone.” She grinned evilly. “I know where all his skeletons are buried.”

Regina laughed. “What about you? Do you want to have a career here? You’re probably good enough to make the team.”

“Thanks. I’d like to play for a while, but I also want to have a family.” They were lying on their beds, leaning against their pillows, and Ginny looked down and touched her ruby ring. “Maybe a big family,” she laughed. “I have—had—six brothers, and maybe I’ll keep having kids until my last one isn’t a girl.” She laughed again, and felt a warm feeling creep up inside her. She was surprised at herself for opening up to someone she didn’t really know that well, but it felt good to be talking about Harry.

Regina was watching her. “You’re really in love, aren’t you? I hope that doesn’t offend you,” she added. “It’s just nice to see someone who has plans for her life that include a career and a family with someone she already knows. Most of the girls in our year don’t have a clue, including me.” She thought for a moment. “Well, maybe Keesha does, but she’s the only one. I do want to help my dad, but that’s not a real reason to start a career, is it?”

“Why not?” Ginny was starting to like her roommate; she was honest, and it didn’t seem as though she was one to make judgments, a true Hufflepuff. “If my dad asked me, I’d probably spend a couple of years in the Ministry with him. But he’d never ask; he knows how much I want to play.”

“You’re lucky to have a dad like that. I’ve always been expected to join the business, and I do feel I owe it to the family.” _Another Hufflepuff trait_ , Ginny thought.

Regina continued. “I hope you don’t mind my saying this, but you and Harry really make a beautiful couple. Whenever he’s with you, he never takes his eyes from you. He used to be kind of . . . well, angry. I guess he always had a lot more on his mind than most people, but he never looked happy, not until he started dating you. It was like a candle being lit, he just started glowing.” She giggled self-consciously. “I’m sorry. I’m actually a little jealous, like probably half the girls in our year. But to look at the both of you, you were really made for each other.”

“Yes,” Ginny said, smiling, “I think so too.”

They both laughed, and Regina started talking about classes—she didn’t have any with Ginny this year because she wasn’t interested in N.E.W.T. levels. They chatted until a loud gong sounded from downstairs.

“Dinner,” said Ginny. They walked into the corridor with the other prospects, and down in the large room they found a long table in the center and a shorter table at one end, perpendicular to it. A half-dozen witches in dark green team robes sat at the shorter table. The hopefuls took seats at the long table.

Ginny and Regina sat between a witch with reddish-brown hair who looked to be younger than themselves, and the lanky blonde who they had seen on the Quidditch pitch. As soon as everyone—about three dozen all together—was seated, a middle-aged witch at the head table rose.

“Welcome to Harpy Heaven,” she greeted everyone. “I am Happy Field, manager of the Holyhead Harpies. We hold these tryouts whenever we have openings on the team, and we always look forward to the opportunity to introduce new blood into our organization. Most of you will be here until Saturday evening, a few of you until Sunday morning. We ask you to read carefully the handouts we left in your rooms. We expect everyone to obey the rules, but also to enjoy yourselves and make new friends. If you have any questions about anything, please ask anyone on the staff. We’ll be wearing our uniform robes all weekend.”

She paused and looked down the long table. “We’ll hold a short meeting half an hour after dinner ends. Meanwhile, enjoy the meal.” She smiled and sat.

Food appeared on the table, just like it did at Hogwarts. Soon everyone was tucking in and talking, and the room filled with conversation. Ginny discovered that the younger witch’s name was Ginger Beale and was from the East End of London, which Ginny knew was near Dean Thomas’s home. The girl had only a vague idea about what or where Hogwarts was, but, when Ginny introduced herself, the girl’s eyes grew wide and she stared as though she had just met a Muggle rock star.

“Bugger, you’re ‘Arry Potter’s girl, aincha?” she said in an awed voice. “Blimey, I never thought I’d ‘ave a seat next to someone like you.”

Ginny was completely embarrassed. “Please, it’s no big deal. I’m really nobody.”

“Right.” The girl nodded with a half-smile. “Nice of you to say that. I seen your picture in the _Prophet_. Your ‘Arry seems like a right ‘andsome bloke. Do ‘e treat you good?”

“Very.”

“‘At’s nice. Lots a’ blokes don’t treat their birds right. I know a few neat little spells, though, just to keep ‘em in line.” She winked at Ginny. “There’s a good ‘un what sticks a lot of bat bogeys on their smilin’ pusses. I could teach it to ya, just in case ‘ol ‘Arry gets out a’ line. The Chosen One, righto?” She laughed.

Ginny forced a laugh; she wasn’t sure what to make of this witch, but her comments made Ginny aware, in a way she had not been before, of what it must be like for Harry whenever someone recognized him in public. “I actually know that jinx,” she said. “It’s very effective, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Ginger grinned. “You didn’ ‘ave to use it on ‘Arry, did you?”

Ginny shook her head and grinned back. “I used it a bunch of times on my brothers, once or twice at school, and once I was going to use it on a Muggle git but Harry did it instead so I wouldn’t get in trouble with the Ministry.”

The girl snorted. “The Ministry! A pack a’ fat prats who don’ know their arse from a teakettle. But why did you think they would of cared if you hexed a Muggle? ‘ell, it ‘appens all the time where I come from.”

“It does? Don’t they come after you? How old are you, er, if you don’t mind my asking.”

“Seventeen last month. An’ every so often they do come nosin’ around if someone rolls a Muggle, but they never stay long. Too dangerous.” She grinned.

“Interesting.”

Ginny really did find the girl and her conversation interesting. She obviously lived in a completely different world from her own; maybe Stan Shunpike would have been familiar with it, but it was brand new to her.

“How long have you been playing Quidditch,” Ginny asked.

“About five years. There’s a social club run by some do-gooders who ain’t much use except for Quidditch. They’re always throwin’ goodness at ya’, but one of them charmed an old warehouse and we practice inside. My brother, um, found a broom for me a couple of years ago, an’ last month that lady up there—” she pointed to Brenda Touron who was sitting at the head table “—showed up, an’ she asked me to come ‘ere. What about you?”

Ginny described how she had flown on her own at home for years when her brothers wouldn’t let her fly with them, and that she played on the Gryffindor team. “We have a Cup that we all compete for each year. This year I was the captain and we won the Cup.”

“I seen ya flying this afternoon. Nice broom. A Firebolt 21, righto? I’d like to get one of them someday. The one my brother found is kinda old, a Cleansweep, but I figured out some tricks to boost ‘er up.” She grinned again. “Would you mind it I gave yours a go? I’d love to see what it’s like.”

“Sure,” Ginny smiled. ‘I’d be happy to. Maybe after the meeting we can go back down to the pitch.”

Soon the meal ended and Ginny went back up to her room. She took out the Harpies book, which she had brought along, and re-read about the team’s history until the gong sounded and everyone trooped down to the common room. The long table was gone and chairs were arranged in front of the end table, where the same witches who had been at the meal were sitting. When all were settled, Coach Field stood and spoke.

“At this time we want to introduce you to our organization and tell you what you can expect this weekend. At the end of the table is Gwenog Jones, our first position Beater and team captain. Next to her is Brenda Touron, our scout, who most of you have met. On my left is Stephanie Dee, our Chaser coach, and next to her is Jackie Lamour, our first-position Chaser. Miss Dee will handle the rest of the meeting.”

Coach Dee, the one whom Ginny had given the Golden Snitch to at the end of the Hufflepuff match, stood.

“Two of our Chasers, including the second-position, are retiring. This weekend you are not competing for that position, but just for one of the two open jobs on the team. There are thirty-five of you, and the two who are selected will start at the bottom of the ladder and compete with our present players.

“We carry six Chasers on the roster, and one of them, Miss Lamour, has been a league all-star for five years in a row, and was on the national team that competed for the World Cup four years ago. We expect her to make the national team again this year.” She nodded to the Chaser and sat down.

Jackie rose.

“Thank you, Coach, I’ll try to meet your expectations.” Everyone laughed. “And welcome everybody. The Harpies have a distinct style of play on the offense. We don’t expect you to know it now, but we do expect new team members to learn it quickly, especially with it being so close to the start of the league season. We aren’t as physically strong as the wizards we play against, but we make up for it with speed, quickness, and brains.” She paused and smiled. “They often underestimate us, and when they do, they pay.” There was appreciative laughter and some applause as she sat.

Gwenog Jones spoke last. “I’m the Harpies captain and one of the Beaters. Defense is the one area in which it’s difficult to make up for the natural physical differences between witches and wizards that Jackie talked about. Because of that, we emphasize offense a touch more than some of the other clubs. That makes you, as Chasers, all the more important. I’ll be out there tomorrow and Sunday watching and helping decide which two of you will fit into our system best. It won’t necessarily be the fastest, but it will definitely not be the ones who lack discipline and teamwork.”

This speech was greeted with silence. Coach Dee asked for questions, and when there were none, announced that the meeting was over; she reminded them that they had to be in their rooms by nine and lights out by ten.

Ginny found Ginger and suggested that they head down to the pitch right away, since they had only about an hour until curfew. Regina decided to stay in the room and try to get to sleep early, so Ginny and Ginger went by themselves. On the way to the pitch Ginger talked about her family—she had two brothers and two sisters—and how much she was hoping to make the team.

“It’s not like I ‘ate everything about it,” Ginger said, “but it’s pretty depressing where I live. There ain’t much to do except get into trouble and ‘ave babies. I figure if I make the team as the last Chaser, they’ll still pay me enough to get meself outa there.”

“Where would you live?”

The girl looked out over the gentle swells of the Irish Sea, a few hundred yards away. “It’s nice ‘ere, ain’t it? If I make the cut, maybe I’ll look around the town for a place. I don’t got much back in London, so I might as well move up ‘ere as soon as I can.”

“It does seem nice here,” Ginny agreed. “My brother and sister-in-law live in a beautiful little cottage right on the sea, and it’s my favorite place, except for home—” She stopped without mentioning the flat.

They entered the pitch and exchanged brooms. Ginger started slowly but soon was streaking around the pitch grinning broadly and shouting to Ginny. When they landed Ginger examined the Firebolt.

“What a sweet broom,” she said, running her hand along the shaft. “‘ow long ‘ave you ‘ad it?”

“Almost a year. It was a birthday present from my mum and dad.”

Ginger got a wistful look. “There’s no way me own mum could afford something like this.” She looked at Ginny, who was still holding the Cleansweep. “You were flying that piece a’ junk like it was your own.”

“When I was sneaking out of the house to fly, that’s all we had. I still don’t know how Dad could afford a Firebolt.”

As they were walking back to the clubhouse, Ginny asked hesitantly, “You said your mum couldn’t afford a Firebolt. What about your dad?”

“‘e’s dead. Someone killed ‘im in a duel about five years ago. But ‘e left us when I was a baby an’ whatever gold ‘e ever earned went into firewhiskey.”

“I’m sorry,” Ginny said quietly. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

“Ah, don’t trouble yourself. ‘E was a bastard; ‘e got what ‘e deserved. Let’s not talk about ‘im.”

Ginny was silent until, when they were almost at the clubhouse, she stopped; Ginger looked at her curiously, and Ginny took her arm and pulled her until they were away from the building. “Do you know anything about the Harpies’ system? You know, what Jackie Lamour was talking about in the meeting?”

Ginger shook her head, but got a speculative look in her eye. “Can’t say that I’ve ever even thought about it. I was never much interested in following them.”

“I have something that might help you. Come on up to my room.”

They went up and found Regina in bed in her nightgown reading a copy of _Witch Weekly_ ; Ginny introduced her to Ginger and went to her bag. With a surreptitious finger to her lips, she took the Harpies book out and stuck it under her robes. They went out into the corridor.

“It’s a magical book,” Ginny said in a low voice. “It shows how they do everything. I used it during our matches at school and it worked great. Don’t let anyone else see it.”

Ginger grinned. “Thanks, Ginny. I’ll be up late tonight with me wand under the covers. And that’s a swell picture of ‘Arry you got; it looks just like I seen ‘im in the _Prophet_.”

They parted—Ginger’s room was at the other end of the corridor—and Ginny went back inside and got ready for bed. She lay awake long after the gong sounded and Regina had doused her wand, thinking about Ginger. She reminded Ginny of herself in many ways, except for the circumstances of her upbringing. In that respect they were completely different, and Ginny wondered how well _she_ could cope with the life that Ginger seemed simply to laugh at.

She took out her locket and two emerald green points of light sparkled in the pitch blackness of the room. She put the picture to her lips and kissed Harry’s face. She missed him so much, yet she was also so happy to be where she was. It would be horrible if Harry couldn’t come to her matches—assuming she made the team—but when she compared her own life to Ginger’s, she could only feel gratitude for her parents, her family, Harry, and everyone else who had helped bring her to this point. She had so much to be thankful for, and Harry’s missing her matches was nothing compared to Ginger’s problems; her father probably had never even seen her fly.

Yet Ginger was cheerful, friendly, and curious about Ginny. She didn’t show any signs of jealousy or resentment about the advantages that Ginny might have in the tryouts. Ginny had attended Hogwarts, where she had honed her Quidditch skills in an environment that valued them. Ginger’s Quidditch experience was limited, and it was unlikely that her coaches could compare even to Harry. Ginny had all the advantages and Ginger had all the disadvantages, yet it didn’t seem to bother the girl. Ginny felt drawn to her, and Ginger seemed to reciprocate the feeling.

But Ginny didn’t want to appear patronizing. She had never had a friend who wasn’t from the same background as herself; their families might be richer or poorer, but their upbringings were essentially the same. This would be interesting, she thought. She turned on her side and fell asleep.

# # # #

At nine the next morning, everyone gathered in the middle of the Quidditch pitch. The rest of the Harpies team had arrived, except for the two Seekers. The two Keepers and the four Beaters split and went to opposite ends of the pitch. The hopefuls were divided into two groups, and Ginny found herself in the same group as Ginger.

“I was up until two reading the book,” Ginger whispered. “It’s bloody brilliant!”

Ginny grinned and nodded. “If they put us in the same trio, we’ll try the Toast And Jam maneuver. At least it’ll surprise them.”

Ginger nodded with a gleam in her eye. “Good one, that. They probably won’t be expecting it.”

Regina was not in their group. Ginny wished her luck, and she and Ginger followed Gwenog Jones and the number four Beater, Sally Brown, to the end of the pitch. The tryout candidates sat together on the grass.

Ginny, but not Ginger, was in the first trio to be called. They flew up about thirty feet, and Happy Field tossed Ginny the Quaffle. “I want at least three passes before you shoot. I don’t care who scores, I’m not looking for scoring ability, not yet. You have to get the Quaffle to the goal before you can score.”

The three Chasers looked at each other, and Ginny led them towards the two Beaters hovering between them and the hoops. She flew to within twenty feet and tossed the Quaffle back to the second Chaser and dropped ten feet. The Chaser circled up, drawing Sally Brown with her; as the Beater was about to launch a Bludger, she passed to the third Chaser. Ginny, meanwhile, had drifted underneath Gwenog Jones; suddenly she shot up behind Jones, received the Quaffle and streaked for the goal. But as she was about to shoot, Jones reared up in front of her and smacked Ginny in the midriff with the Bludger.

She dropped the Quaffle and doubled over her broom, the breath knocked out of her; she had no idea where Jones had come from. She looped back without looking at the Beater and the Chasers regrouped.

“Are you okay?” one said.

Ginny nodded and gulped air. “Try it again, but this time I’ll fake. If I’m open, give me the Quaffle and just fly straight for the hoops. I’ll get it back to you.”

The two Chasers grinned and nodded. Coach Field handed the Quaffle to Ginny again. This time she backed off from Jones instead of drifting down, but at the last second, shot up into the clear. She took the pass from her companion, drawing Jones after her. Ginny’s return pass was true, and the Chaser got a clean shot on goal. Gwenog Jones looked at Ginny but said nothing.

“Good one!” Coach called. “One more rush.”

This time the second Chaser started the attack, and Ginny ended up with the Quaffle almost directly in front of the hoops, but Jones, who Ginny had faked out of position, recovered just in time to launch a Bludger that caught her shoulder. Ginny flew down holding her arm against her body and landed roughly.

A witch in Healer’s robes came over. “Let me see that,” she said, and took Ginny’s arm.

She winced. “It’s fine. I just need to work it out.”

“It’s dislocated.” The Healer took her wand out and waved it over Ginny’s shoulder. “Now it’s not. You’re doing well, by the way.” She smiled and walked away.

Ginny went back to the waiting Chasers, rubbing her shoulder. “Are you okay?” Ginger asked as Ginny sat. “You looked great up there. I thought that first Bludger would knock you off the damn broom.”

“I never saw her,” Ginny grunted. “I should have scored on the last rush.”

“That Jones is pretty good.”

The tryouts proceeded. Ginger was in the last trio to fly, and she scored once, the first Chaser to do so. Ginny watched her closely; she was very quick, even though her broom was inferior to most of the others. She could stop and turn quickly, and had a sense for the Quaffle. She was also tough; she took a Bludger from Gwenog in the face, and Ginny could swear she saw Ginger spit out a tooth. When she landed, the Healer looked in her mouth, waved her wand, and gave her a potion to drink.

“It’s supposed to grow them back,” the girl said to Ginny during the break that followed. “It tasted like frog piss.”

Ginny laughed. “Do they have frogs in the East End?”

Ginger grinned, and Ginny saw the gap in her front teeth. “Just rats. But I’ve ‘ad beer that tastes worse, and everyone calls it frog piss.”

After a break they were split into different trios, and Ginny and Ginger flew together. They told their third Chaser their plan, and on their first rush they charged the hoops together, side-by-side. As they approached the Beaters, Ginny rose straight up; Ginger, in the middle, flew straight ahead; and the third Chaser dropped down. The Beaters split; Ginny, who had the Quaffle, simply dropped it to Ginger who streaked for the goal and scored for the second time.

This time Gwenog Jones flew up to Ginny. “Have you been doing some reading?” she asked with a thoughtful look.

“Maybe,” Ginny replied.

Jones grinned and flew back to her position.

The Chasers decided to freelance for their next two rushes, and both times Ginny was able to spring one of the others free. Ginger scored again, but the other Chaser was ridden off the Quaffle by Brown. When they landed and took their seats, Ginger was quivering with excitement.

“Bloody ‘ell, you are good!” she said to Ginny. “I ‘eard that ‘Arry Potter was good too. You two must be quite a pair.”

“We have played together a little.” Ginny blushed, and Ginger laughed.

“I’ll bet you ‘ave,” she grinned.

Ginny was nonplused for a moment, but when she looked at Ginger she also grinned. “We love it up there,” she said, and they both laughed.

Soon it was lunchtime, followed by another session in the afternoon. This time Coach Dee directed Ginny’s group, and she had Ginny and Ginger fly together for most of the afternoon. They faced Gwenog and the number two Beater, Sufa Sultana, and the first-string Keeper, Maura Robinson. Ginger didn’t score, and both she and Ginny took Bludgers in the back and arms. Afterwards, many of the Chasers were nursing bumps and bruises, and had to visit the Healer’s room in the clubhouse. Back in their own room, Ginny and Regina helped each other rub a potion that the Healer had given them into their shoulders and hands, but Regina was cheerful.

“I had some fun, but I expect they’ll be letting me go this evening. How did it go with you and Ginger?”

“I think okay.” Ginny grimaced as she moved her arm around. “I got my shoulder dislocated in the morning and she had two teeth knocked out. Maybe that helps.”

Regina grinned. “It probably does. Well,” she sighed and looked around the room. “I’ll pack now and avoid the rush.”

Dinner was not as noisy as the other meals had been. No one wanted to talk about the tryouts because the coaches and team players were sitting only a few feet away. Most of the conversation was about a new model broomstick that was supposed to be better than the Firebolt. When they were finished eating, the tables were cleared and Happy Field rose.

“We truly thank all of you for coming here, and those of you who are being asked to leave, we wish you well. There is nothing personal in our decisions, we base them on what is best for the Holyhead Harpies. I know that’s not easy to accept sometimes, but don’t be discouraged. Keep practicing and keep trying. Most of our players were cut at least once by someone.

“Here are the names of the four who are being asked to stay. Everyone else is requested to leave before the nine o’clock curfew.” She cleared her throat. “Miss Felicity Bacon, Miss Ginger Beale, Miss Elizabeth King, and Miss Ginny Weasley.”

“Blimey!” Ginger said in the buzz of conversation that followed. She looked at Ginny with wide eyes and a very large grin. “I never thought I’d ‘ear my name tonight.”

Ginny had barely breathed for the past five minutes. She also felt a strange sensation, as though part of her was elsewhere, and she knew that Harry had heard her name being called. She was aware of Regina’s enthusiastic congratulations, but she suddenly wanted Harry; she wanted to tell him all about today, to put her mouth on his and feel his arms around her. This was such a huge moment for her, and the person she wanted to be with the most was hundreds of miles away.

She patted Ginger’s hand and pushed away from the table. “We haven’t made it yet; they have to choose two of us.”

“No problem. I saw those other two. We’re miles better. It’s in the bag, Ginny, we’re on the team.”

Ginny had to admit that Ginger was probably right. Both of the other girls had been in their afternoon group, and Ginny honestly believed that she and Ginger were better. But it wasn’t decided yet. She tried to calm herself; she didn’t want disappointment to be too bitter. Something bad could happen, she could fall off her broom or screw up somehow. But there had been that flash that she had “sent” to Harry, and she didn’t want to let him down.

She went back upstairs where Regina was finishing her packing. “Good luck to you and Ginger,” she said smiling. “Everyone’s saying that you two are cinches to make it. That will be really cool, to have a Hogwarts witch on the Harpies.”

“We haven’t made it yet,” Ginny said, flopping on her bed. “But tell everyone at school I’ll do my best and see them tomorrow.”

Regina left, and soon the building seemed much quieter. The room was getting darker, and Ginny lit her wand and lay there, rubbing her finger on her ring; she took out her locket again and laid it open on the bed, gazing at Harry’s picture. Where was this longing coming from? It was almost as if he was close by and she was not able to get to him, to touch him, to have him touch her. She closed her eyes; Merlin, she thought, it had better not be like this when we’re married and I have to go away for days at a time. I’ll never make it _._

There was a knock, and the door opened. “Hey, Ginny,” said Ginger. “‘ere’s your book back. I asked if we could move in together, but Coach said they want us to stay in our own rooms.”

“Come in.” Ginny swung her legs around and sat on the bed. “It sounds like everyone’s left.”

Ginger looked at the locket lying on the bed, and Ginny handed it to her. “It was a birthday present. His eyes are really like that.”

“Bloody ‘ell, no wonder you’re in love. ‘E could ‘ave any bird ‘e wanted with them eyes.”

“And lots of them tried,” Ginny laughed. “Someone tried to give him a love potion once, but my brother got it instead.”

Ginger snickered. “Love potion? Someone’s always passin’ off sugar water for one of them. A couple of years ago I bought some for this bloke I fancied, but ‘e puked ‘is guts out when ‘e drank it. ‘E never took notice of me, neither.”

Ginny gazed at her; there was such a vast difference between them, but she was hoping that they would end up as teammates.

“Would you like to come to my wedding?” she blurted.

Ginger stared at her and put down the locket. “Do you mean that?”

“Of course I mean it. I’d love for you to meet Harry. And you’d love my mum, she’s got the biggest heart in the world. And my brothers too. They’d all love you.”

Ginger gazed at her, and Ginny wondered if she had made a mistake. Had that been patronizing?

“Look,” she said, “I really like you, and I’d really like you to meet Harry. If you don’t feel comfortable coming to the wedding . . .”

“Okay.” Ginger smiled shyly; it was a completely different look from any other that Ginny had seen on her face. “It sounds grand. Where will it be?”

“At my house in Devonshire, near a village called Ottery St. Catchpole. It’s called the Burrow.”

“What is? The village?”

“No,” Ginny giggled, “our house. I don’t know why, that’s just always been its name.”

“I was in Exeter once, I think. Me dad got busted by the Muggles, and Mum ‘ad to go there to rescue ‘im. I was only about two.” She glanced shyly at Ginny again. “That would be brilliant to meet ‘Arry Potter.”

Ginny beamed. “Good, it’s settled. It’ll be on July 17, and I’ve already checked the schedule and there aren’t any Harpies matches for two weeks before or after.”

“I thought you said we ‘adn’t made the team yet.”

“It’s in the bag,” Ginny laughed.

They sat next to each other on the bed, talking about the tryouts and their chances for tomorrow, and what they would do if they made the team.

“I’ll ‘ave to figure ‘ow to get another broom for a spare,” Ginger said with a thoughtful look. “Maybe me brother can find one again.” She grinned at Ginny.

Ginny frowned. “I hadn’t thought of that. I guess we’re supposed to have two brooms. I’ll probably use one of the Cleansweeps or old Comets we keep in the shed. Say, I’ll bet my Dad would let you have one.”

“That would be brilliant,” Ginger said. “Blimey, thanks Ginny. And thanks from me brother too.” They both laughed.

They heard the gong, and Ginger returned to her room. Ginny put the locket back on the bed, changed into her nightgown, got under the covers, and fell asleep with two green eyes looking at her.

The tryouts the next morning went quickly; each of the four prospects formed a trio with two Chasers from the team. Felicity Bacon and Elizabeth King played competently, but Ginny and Ginger knew the system and worked smoothly with the two Harpy Chasers. After a brief conference of the coaches and captain, Ginny and Ginger were awarded the two vacant positions.

“Congratulations,” Happy Field said as she shook their hands. Ginny’s was trembling when she extended hers; her mouth opened but no words came out. Ever since she had met Gwenog Jones and Brenda Touron on the day of the Slytherin match, she had wondered if this would actually happen. Now it had, and she couldn’t speak. She looked at Ginger, who also seemed stunned. They grinned, and threw their arms around each other and laughed. The coaches and Gwenog smiled and clapped.

“Back to Harpy Heaven,” said Coach. “You are now Harpies, and the first order of business is to fit your uniforms. Actually, the first order was to send an owl to the _Prophet_ but that’s already been done. Come!”

Back in the clubhouse changing room they were measured with a magical tape, and two uniforms flew out of a closet. Ginny’s whole body shook as she put hers on; she was close to tears when she looked in the mirror and saw the golden talon emblazoned on the front. She stared at her reflection, and knew that even though she could not see them, her whole family was standing behind her. And once again she had that sensation, as though part of her had gone someplace else.

Ginger was also looking at herself in a mirror, running her hands over the smooth leather shirt and touching the talon. “Pretty threads,” she grinned.

“How about a quick run into town?” said Gwenog. “Unless you have to be going right away, we like to treat new teammates to a drink. There’s a small inn in Holyhead, the Flying Claw.”

 _New teammates_ , Ginny thought. _I’m a teammate.  I’m a Holyhead Harpy. I’m a professional Quidditch player._ She shook her head and looked around, wondering if she would wake up and find it all a dream. But it was still there; she was still in Harpy Heaven, she was still wearing dark green with a golden talon.

“I could use a drink,” said Ginger.

They went up to their rooms and put on their street clothes; back downstairs, Gwenog and Stephanie were waiting. “It’s only about a mile,” said Gwenog. “We try to keep a low profile in the Muggle sections, so we’ll walk. The inn is near the inlet.”

They left the clubhouse and picked up a path that turned into a paved Muggle road. The ocean was only a few yards on their left. After walking for five minutes they started to see automobiles and houses. In the town of Holyhead they followed winding roads and came to a street of small, ordinary-looking row houses. Half-way down the block they turned into the walkway of a house with a winged talon painted on the door, and Gwenog knocked three times with her knuckles, not with the large brass knocker. She pushed the door open and they entered.

It was a lot like the Leaky Cauldron, but smaller. It smelled of mead and firewhiskey, and a haze of smoke floated near the beamed ceiling. It was dark, but somehow still seemed cheery. There were only a few customers, and they all turned when the newcomers entered.

“Gwenog!” a wizard called from the bar. “These are your new Chasers? Welcome to Holyhead, my lovelies!”

Ginny and Ginger exchanged grins. But Ginny did a double-take when she looked past her new friend at a booth along the side. A figure stood; Ginny shrieked and clapped her hand to her mouth when she saw, in the shadows, two emerald green sparks of light and Harry’s smiling face.


	52. Leaving Hogwarts

Ginny flew to Harry and threw herself at him; he caught her and she gave him a wet kiss. “What on earth are you doing here?” she said, her eyes agleam, her whole face smiling. “How long have you been here?”

“I’m here to be with you. I came yesterday evening. I knew all along you would make the team.” He picked her up and whirled her and she gave another shriek. He set her down and they grinned at each other, holding hands, feeling the closeness build.

Ginny suddenly let go one hand. “Meet my new teammates.” She pulled him into the middle of the room where the others were standing, watching, as was everyone in the inn. Ginny introduced him to Ginger last.

“Pleased to meetcha.” She blushed, the first time Ginny had seen her do so.

“Ginger is from the East End,” Ginny said to Harry. “Doesn’t Dean live near there? He’s a friend of ours from school,” she said to Ginger. “He was in Harry’s year.”

“I ‘ope ‘e doesn’t live too near,” Ginger grinned. “I wouldn’t wish my neighbor’ood on anyone.”

“Why don’t we sit?” Coach Dee said. They went to a round table off to one side, and the bartender brought over a pitcher of butterbeer and five glasses. The coach poured and raised her glass. “To a championship season.” They clinked and drank.

As they talked, Ginny kept eyeing Harry, but although they were holding hands on the table, he wouldn’t look at her. Finally she dug her fingernail into his palm and he glanced at her with an enigmatic smile. He leaned over and murmured, “Lots of good news to talk about when we get home.” She sat back and rubbed the spot she had attacked with her thumb. Harry put his hand under the table and squeezed her thigh; Ginny let out a squeal that caused everyone to look at her.

“Sorry.” She felt a Weasley blush creep up her face. “I’m feeling a little excited.” Coach Dee and Gwenog went back to their conversation, but Ginger grinned at Ginny and Harry.

They stayed for an hour, and Coach Dee invited Harry to join them back at Harpy Heaven. He and Ginny walked with Ginger. A breeze was blowing off the sea, but the bright sun overhead warmed them. The walk gave a striking view towards the hill on which the clubhouse sat, but they could not see it.

“Being near the water reminds me of Shell Cottage,” Ginny sighed. “Let’s go back as soon as we can. I’ll ask Fleur if we can stay there for a weekend after school ends.”

“That’s your sister-in-law?” Ginger asked. “Sounds like a foreign name.”

“Yes, she’s French.”

Harry’s brow furrowed. “I don’t know. With the new baby she might not want to deal with company.”

“It won’t hurt to ask.”

She told Harry that she had invited Ginger to the wedding. “And you should see her fly. She has a Cleansweep that moves like a Nimbus, at least.”

“Cool.” Harry looked at the girl. “When’s your first match.”

“We probably won’t even be in the lineup,” Ginny answered. “But Harry, how can you come to a match? Isn’t it . . .?”

He glanced at Stephanie and Gwenog, walking a few yards ahead. “The problem is solved,” he said in a low voice, giving her the enigmatic smile again. Ginny didn’t say anything, but couldn’t help the smile on her own face. She noticed Ginger’s puzzled look, and put a finger to her lips.

As they climbed the low hill, almost a bluff, the clubhouse gradually appeared, like a photograph coming into focus. When they were about two hundred yards away they could see it clearly, and by the time they were within fifty yards they could also see the pitch. They went inside and Harry waited in the common room, chatting with Coach Dee, Happy Field, and Brenda Touron, who had prepared contracts for the new Harpies.

Ginny packed her bags, picked up her broom and walked down the hall to Ginger’s room. She was also packing.

“‘E’s a doll, that ‘Arry Potter is,” she grinned. “Do ‘e ‘ave a brother?”

Ginny laughed. “You’re not the first girl to ask. Oh, Ginger, sometimes I have to pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming.” She giggled. “I actually had a crush on him before I even knew him. And I never guessed that he was interested in me until two years ago . . .” She got a faraway look. “Merlin, it was almost exactly two years ago. We had just won the Quidditch Cup and I went to hug him and he kissed me and it was all over, I didn’t stand a chance. If a long-lost brother turns up, I’ll let you know right away.”

They laughed their way downstairs, where there was one final task. In the office of Coach Field, they each signed a magical contract officially making them members of the team. They also put their uniform robes on once more and each got her photograph taken. Finally their Portkeys were prepared and, before they said their goodbyes, Coach Field handed them each a parchment with the practice and game schedules.

“First practice will be next Saturday at ten o’clock, but it will be a short one, just to introduce everyone and have a quick fly-around. The following Saturday is our first friendly with the Cannons. We don’t plan to put you two in the lineup until later in the summer, but of course you’ll participate in the practices. We know all about your wedding plans, Ginny, and we won’t be expecting you here full-time until August.”

“Is that a problem?” Ginny asked. “I don’t want to miss more than I have to.”

“Some of the other clubs might make it a problem, but we do not. Happy witches make happy Harpies.” She laughed. “I never put it that way before, but I like the sound of it.”

Ginny and Ginger gave each other one last hug, and the two Portkeys—an old duffel bag and a battered teakettle—glowed blue. Ginger grabbed one and Harry and Ginny grabbed the other. In a moment they were back in Madam Hooch’s office. The Flying instructor shook Ginny’s hand, there was a flash of light, and Dennis Creevey grinned at them from behind his camera.

“Congratulations!” exclaimed Professor McGonagall, who was also there. “This is a brilliant day for Hogwarts. It’s been at least five years since we had a student go from school directly onto a professional club.” She turned to Hooch. “That was Wood, wasn’t it, Rolanda? He went to Puddlemere, I believe. Two Gryffindors.” She beamed at Ginny proudly. “And you accompanied her there?” She arched her eyebrows at Harry.

“No, Professor, I Floo’d down yesterday, and I stayed at an inn in Holyhead. I didn’t see Ginny until a couple of hours ago.”

“Hmm.” She gave him one of her inscrutable looks, but Ginny grabbed his hand and started for the door.

“Thanks, Professors,” she said. “I have to get back to my room and send owls to my family. They don’t know yet.”

She pulled Harry along and Dennis followed. When they were in the hallway she turned and gave Harry a fierce kiss, and pointed at Dennis. “No pictures, if you please, this is a private moment.”

Dennis gave her a salute. “No problem, my captain. Maybe we can take a couple in the common room.”

“Maybe. Now run along.” She shooed him away, and kissed Harry again. The door to Hooch’s office opened and Professor McGonagall walked out.

“Have you sent your owls already?” the Headmistress asked, and strode off without waiting for a reply.

“I think she was smiling,” said Harry as they watched her go. “Her lips were curled up one millimeter on each side.”

Ginny took his hand. “Come on, we have so much to talk about. I want to know why you decided to come to Holyhead.”

“Because I love you.” Harry picked up her bag and they put their arms around each other’s waist. “I couldn’t bear to be away from you.”

“You’re a liar. You did something, and you came to Holyhead to see if it worked.”

“Yes, there was that. But shall we go back to the inn? I promise I’ll tell you everything there.”

“In the bedroom, of course.” They were in front of the Fat Lady, who looked at them with interest when she heard Ginny’s words.

“Pillow talk?” she leered.

“Paint remover,” Ginny scowled; she gave the password and without further ado the portrait swung back.

Dennis had preceded them with the news of Ginny’s approach, and the crowded common room erupted in cheers as she entered. Demelza was the first to shake her hand and hug her, followed by the rest of the team, even Jimmy Peakes. After a few minutes of celebration, Ginny pushed her way through to the stairway. She went up and changed into fresh clothes, and was soon back in the common room. Harry helped her get through the crowd to the fireplace, and a moment later they were in the sitting room of the flat in front of the love seat. Harry took her hips in his hands and they looked at each other; a moment later they were in each other’s arms.

“I missed you so much,” Ginny whispered as Harry smothered her face with kisses. “Oh, yes.”

His hands had gone to wonderful places and Ginny let her knees go. Harry caught her and lowered her to the rug; he was breathing hard and his hands were trembling as he undid her belt and zipper.

Ginny reached up and removed his eyeglasses. “Someone missed me. Or maybe someone got a little turned on when he gave me that incredible massage.”

“Yeah, that’s it,” Harry breathed. “Massage . . . Oh, Merlin.”

After a minute he rolled off and lay back on the rug until he caught his breath. He turned to look at her, his beautiful Ginny who was lying next to him, looking back with a little smile.

“Feel better?” She touched his lips.

“For the time being, at least until you want another massage. That was pure hell, having all of you there but not able to have you. I don’t think I could survive another one.”

“Then next time I’ll try to accommodate you.”

Harry gazed at her. “I love you so much.”

Ginny rolled them both so that she was on top; she rested her hands on his chest and put her chin on them. Harry reached for his wand where it had fallen out of his belt, Summoned a cushion from the love seat, and tucked it under his head.

“So tell me,” said Ginny, “how is the problem solved?”

“I went to dinner at Hermione and Ron’s on Friday evening and told them all about it, going back to last summer when you could tell when I was coming home from here. She dragged us to the bookstore, and we were there for six hours until they kicked us out about an hour after closing time. She took a whole stack of books home, then she went back at the crack of dawn for another five or so hours. _Then_ she came back to their flat and dug out those books she stole from Dumbledore’s office about Horcruxes—”

“What!” Ginny exclaimed. “What do they have to do with it?”

“Wait, I’ll explain. So after all that research, including staying up all night, she finally found something in one of the Horcrux books, and I think it’s something Riddle didn’t know. Hermione thinks that if you use a person as a Horcrux, but then the damn thing is removed or somehow goes away, that person is left with what she called a hole that can be filled up with another piece of someone else.”

Ginny abruptly pushed off and sat back on the rug, staring at Harry with a mixture of incomprehension and shock. “There’s a piece of me inside you?”

Harry sat up and reached for her hand. “It’s not Dark Magic, love, and it’s not something either one of us tried to do. It just happened. But that’s the connection.” He stroked her hand and she looked at it.

Her eyes went to his scar. “Can you feel it?”

“It’s not there. Hermione couldn’t figure out if it’s anything physical or something in our minds. She said that there’s nothing actually written about it, although she’s going to take a look in the Restricted Section at Hogwarts. She said that everything she came up with was an inference, she even called it an educated guess.”

“I suppose we should still ask Professor Dumbledore.” Ginny was quiet for several moments, just looking at their hands. “I’m going to have to get used to this. I always thought of the connection as just magic, not something physical. It’s still wonderful, but . . .” She looked at his scar again. “It almost sounds like you have a deformity, like a finger that got chopped off, and the stump will always be there, no matter what. I mean, what would happen if I died?”

“Oh, God, don’t say that! That’s not going to happen! And maybe . . . maybe because part of you is here—” he touched his chest over his heart “—maybe you’ll still be there.” He shook his head violently. “I don’t even want to think about it. I think it’s so amazing, Ginny. And Hermione said it’s likely that there’s a piece of me inside you, just like it was with Riddle. It’s . . . it’s beautiful, love, it’s beautiful.”

There were tears on his face, and Ginny wiped them away. “So what does that have to do with your being at Holyhead this morning?”

“As soon as Hermione explained it, I just knew I had the key. Remember I told you that when I was in Paris Bill said that we would learn to control it? And I can! I went to Holyhead yesterday around four o’clock, and the whole time I was there I knew what you were feeling. I knew when you and Ginger Beale were flying together; I knew when she almost scored; I knew that your shoulder was still bothering you; I knew that you were looking at my picture in the locket; I knew when you got picked for the team the next morning.” Harry paused. “Did you feel anything from me?”

Ginny thought back, and remembered moments at the clubhouse when Harry seemed to be there, but she had taken it to be only her longing for him.

“Not really. You were inside me and I wanted you, but . . .” She lowered her eyes and smiled coyly. “That’s how I always feel.”

“How?” Harry now had a lecherous grin. “Like I’m inside you and you want me?”

Ginny smacked him. “Fresh! Maybe you should sleep in the elm tree until we’re married.”

“Even when you’re not here?”

“But I’m always here.” She poked his chest hard. “You just said so yourself.” She started laughing. “Of course, then I’d be sleeping in the tree with you.” She pushed him down and leaned over him. “I’ll have to let you sleep in the bed, otherwise I’ll be covered with bug bites every morning.”

“I don’t want anyone biting you but me.” Harry pulled her on top and they snogged until Ginny started moaning.

“No fair,” she gasped. “I haven’t had a turn yet.”

Harry quickly rose and picked her up in his arms. In the bedroom it took only a moment to remove their clothes—they were mostly undone by now—and this time he was tender and slow and Ginny had lots of turns.

# # # #

They spent the rest of the day and evening in the four-poster except for trips to the little kitchen to eat, and Ginny told Harry all about the tryouts, the clubhouse, the meetings, and Ginger.

“She’s amazing. She’s so upbeat and happy, even though she’s living in a way I could never imagine for myself. I don’t know how she does it. And we just seemed to hit it off. Sometimes I was wondering if that’s what it’s like to have a twin.” Ginny smiled a little. “Or a sister.”

“I’m glad you invited her to the wedding. Maybe Charlie will be interested in her.”

Ginny frowned. “Don’t patronize her, Harry. She may be poor and have different ideas of how things work, but she’s smart and knows what’s going on.”

“I didn’t mean to be patronizing. I thought she was nice. I’m glad you hit it off.”

“And speaking of poor . . .” Ginny sprang out of bed. “I have something to show you.” She picked her jeans off the floor and rummaged through the pockets, then climbed back onto the bed, slapping Harry’s hand from her breast, and sitting on her haunches, holding up a parchment with a golden talon embossed at the top. “My contract! I’ll be earning ten Galleons a week as soon as I’m there full-time. Until then it’s three Galleons a week. Harry, I have gold! I don’t have to ask Mum and Dad for things anymore!”

“I can start charging you for meals, then.”

“Ooo, you wretch!”

She started pummeling him until he grabbed her hands and they rolled together, giggling and tangled in the sheets. They made love one last passionate time, and Harry walked her back to Hogwarts. As he returned to the inn, he pressed his hand to his heart; he had left part of himself with Ginny, but he no longer felt that it was missing.

# # # #

It was now only a little more than a month until the end of term. The seventh-years who were taking N.E.W.T. classes did nothing but cram for the exams, which were administered by the Ministry of Magic, just as O.W.L.s were. All of their classes were devoted to preparing for the tests; there was no homework, and all term projects had been turned in. Ginny spent almost all of her free time in the library with Keesha and Luna, except that she took an hour every afternoon to fly in the stadium. Whenever Harry could, he went to Hogwarts directly from work and flew with her, helping with passing drills or playing a Beater’s position. Sometimes Ron came and also helped by playing Keeper so Ginny could practice shooting. It was a very full schedule and every Saturday night she was exhausted.

They went back to the massage chamber in the Room of Requirement on Saturday evenings, except that they requested a nice, comfy bed and a larger tub in addition to the massage table. They spent the night there once, but the next morning they missed waking up in their own four-poster and being able to walk into the little kitchen to find Winky’s breakfast sitting on the table. From then on, they went back to the inn after the massage, enjoying a nighttime walk down the castle drive and through the village.

The third time in the massage parlor, three days before N.E.W.T.s and after Ginny had spent the morning at a practice session with the Harpies, they noticed that the book—which was always next to the box of massage equipment—was a few pages longer; it now contained photos of a witch massaging a wizard. Harry got to stretch out on the table first while Ginny’s exquisite hands rubbed and squeezed his muscles and joints. They exchanged places and Harry, who was becoming an accomplished masseur, returned the favor. They went back to the flat where Ginny was even more accommodating than usual.

But she was back at school early Sunday morning. She was especially worried about Defense Against the Dark Arts because the fall term had been interrupted by the shenanigans of Professor Pester, and Madame Maxime had pushed her N.E.W.T. section along at breakneck speed. When Harry arrived at the library in the late afternoon to bring her back to the inn for dinner, all three girls—Ginny, Keesha, and Luna—were asleep with their heads on the table, surrounded by books and parchments.

Harry gently prodded Ginny and she groggily lifted her head. “Oh, no,” she groaned, looking around. “What time is it? I still have three chapters to revise.” She swore and picked up her textbook.

“Come on, love,” Harry said. “Give it a rest for a couple of hours. You need to eat. Why don’t you all come back to the inn? Winky is making a fabulous pot roast.”

“I can’t,” she sighed. “I lost half a day yesterday because of practice, and the exams start in two days.”

“Sure you can. You don’t even know what you’re looking at.” He pointed to the book which was upside down in her hands.”

Ginny spun the book around. “Harry, please, I need to study.”

He looked at Luna and Keesha who were staring bleary-eyed at him. “Let’s all go to the Hog’s Head. You can Floo both ways, it won’t take long at all.”

Keesha glanced at Ginny, while Luna continued to stare at Harry. He waved his hand in front of her face. “Luna, wake up. Come have dinner at the inn.”

Ginny slammed the book on the table; the sound reverberated through the whole library. “Dammit, Harry,” she shouted, “we can eat here! Please leave us alone!”

“Okay, okay.” Harry retreated, holding up his hands. He turned and walked down the aisle between the shelves, passing Madam Pince who was stalking the other way towards the source of the racket. He was in the corridor when the library door crashed open behind him, and Ginny came flying out.

“Harry!” she shrieked. “Wait!” She threw her arms around him. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m so tired, I don’t know what I’m saying or doing.”

Harry looked over her shoulder and saw the other two girls being ushered out the door by the librarian, who was telling them, with a stern wag of her finger, “And don’t come back here today!”

“I guess we don’t have a choice,” Ginny sighed. “It’s dinner at the Hog’s Head.”

Keesha and Luna were loaded down with books. “We grabbed everything and ran,” Keesha grinned. “I don’t think she realized we had all this stuff. Let’s get out of here before she figures it out.”

“You can study in the flat tonight,” said Harry. “The table will open up as big as you want, and I’ll bring all your food upstairs. Let’s go to the common room and we can Floo from there.”

“Thanks, love,” Ginny said as they made their way to Gryffindor Tower. “I’m going crazy. I think you made the right choice by not coming back last year. N.E.W.T.s are scarier than Death Eaters.”

Harry chuckled. “That’s exactly why I went into hiding. It had nothing to do with Riddle trying to kill me. I can’t speak for Hermione, though. She probably regrets it.”

“That sounds like Hermione,” Luna yawned. “She’s very studious.”

They Floo’d to the flat and Harry set them up in the sitting room at the expanding table. He went downstairs and spoke to Winky, and soon a steady stream of food was going up to the flat via the little kitchen.

At seven o’clock, Harry said he had an errand to run and disappeared into the fireplace; he had whispered his destination and the girls didn’t hear what he said. Fifteen minutes later he was back.

“You don’t have to be in school until midnight,” he announced. “Professor McGonagall heard about what happened in the library, so she’s letting you all stay off the grounds three more hours.”

He grinned as Ginny and Keesha jumped up and hugged him at the same time. After they sat back down, Luna got up and walked over to him. “Thank you, Harry,” she said, and kissed him on the cheek. She turned, went back to her seat, and picked up the book she had been reading; she started to write on a parchment, oblivious to the entertained looks from the others.

At ten o’clock Ginny asked for coffee, and soon there was a pot percolating on the stove. Harry brought in trays of mugs and coffee cakes, which the girls took without looking up. At a quarter to midnight, they packed up their things. Keesha and Luna gave Harry big hugs—Harry held his breath, waiting for the peck from Luna that never came—and they Floo’d away. Ginny stood in front of the fireplace in Harry’s arms.

“This was a life-saver,” she said as she rubbed his chest under his tee shirt. “I think having a change of scenery helped. We got a lot more done than if we had stayed in the library; we would have just fallen asleep again.”

“Glad I could help.” He took her face in his hands and kissed her nose. “I guess I won’t see you until after the exams are over.”

“I’ll send lots of owls.” She put her head on his chest. “Just two more weeks and we’ll be back at the Burrow. Do you know what I’m going to do?” She looked at him mischievously. “I’m going to take you into the village and treat you at the ice cream store with my wages.”

“My rich benefactress,” he smiled. “Where will you get Muggle money? I thought they were paying you in Galleons.”

“Bill can get it changed at the bank. It’s so nice to have gold. I feel like I’m free.”

“You deserve every Knut. How did practice go yesterday?”

“Pretty good. They had me and Ginger flying with Jackie for a bit. She is so good! I think I learned more from her in five minutes than I did in five years at Hogwarts.”

“So I wasn’t that good a coach?”

“You were the best, sweetie.” She kissed _his_ nose. “It’s just that you distracted me so much, I always forgot what I was doing.”

“Now you’re a liar.” He leaned his head back and looked down his nose at her. “I was falling over myself to get you to look at me, and all you did was snog Dean Thomas. Or was it Michael Corner?”

“It was none of them. You were always the only one.”

He kissed her for a long time and stepped back. “It’s almost midnight. Don’t be late.” He gathered up her books and followed through the fireplace to the Gryffindor common room. They kissed goodnight, and Harry returned to the inn.

# # # #

On Monday evening Harry sent Ginny a special package of Chocoballs and toffee crèmes, her two favorites. She didn’t eat them, though; she knew if she started she wouldn’t be able to stop and then wouldn’t be able to sleep, so she put them in her dresser drawer.

On Tuesday morning she walked into Professor Slughorn’s dungeon classroom just before nine o’clock for her first N.E.W.T. The professor was behind his desk, along with a stooped, wizened, very elderly witch wearing Ministry robes. Cauldrons were set up at separate tables, one for each student, and Ginny took a seat near Ruth Madison; they exchanged nervous greetings. Luna and Keesha came in shortly after, and finally Hector Freeman and Salvador Chambers.

Professor Slughorn cleared his throat. “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. This is your Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Test for Potions. It will be administered by a very distinguished friend of mine, Madam Griselda Marchbanks of the Wizarding Examinations Authority. I wish you well, and now I turn you over to Madam Marchbanks.”

The old witch shuffled forward. She appeared to be extremely frail, but her voice was clear and strong.

“Thank you, Professor. I am happy to be here after a hiatus arising from certain unfortunate events. The world appears to be righted, so here we are.” She tottered forward a few more steps, supported by a gnarled wooden cane, and picked up a parchment from Slughorn’s desk. “On each of your tables is a copy of this parchment, containing your test questions. On my word, you are to turn over your copy, read the instructions, and begin. You have three hours. If you have paid attention to the excellent professor during the year, you will do well.”

She picked up a large hourglass sitting on the desk and turned it over. “You may begin.”

Ginny flipped her parchment and perused it. There were three tasks, and to her relief she saw that they had all been covered in class. She glanced appreciatively at Professor Slughorn, and set to work to produce an extract of spider blood that would cure ringworm without causing baldness as a side-effect.

Two hours and forty-five minutes later Ginny sat back with a sigh and stretched her arms. Everyone else in the room was still working except Luna, who was sitting back in her chair staring at the ceiling, which she had been doing for half an hour. When Ginny got up to turn in her potions, Luna sat up with a start. She picked up all three of her phials, gave Ginny a quick smile, and followed her to the front of the room.

When Ginny handed her phials to Madam Marchbanks, the old witch beckoned to her. Ginny leaned down—the stooped witch was a head shorter—and Marchbanks whispered in her ear, “Puddlemere’s Keeper broke his left arm two weeks ago in a flying accident. He tried to keep it a secret, but I know someone at St. Mungo’s. Shoot to your right and you’ll score every time.” She cackled and punched Ginny’s arm.

Ginny laughed uncertainly. “Thanks,” she whispered, “but I probably won’t be in the starting lineup.”

“Nonsense, girl. You’ll crack the lineup within a month. I’ve seen you fly.” She punched Ginny’s arm again. “Go Harpies!” she said loudly, and cackled.

Ginny smiled, thanked her again, and backed away to let Luna turn in her potions but also to get out of range of another left jab; the old witch’s whack actually hurt. She waited for Luna, rubbing her arm, and they walked out of the classroom together.

“Thanks for waking me up,” Luna said. “I kind of zoned out there.”

“What did you think?” Ginny asked as they sat on the floor, leaning against the wall across from the dungeon, waiting for the others. “I wonder if Slughorn knew what the questions would be; we covered all of them in class.”

“We studied sixty-five potions, so it was likely that whatever was on the exam would have been covered.”

“Oh.” Ginny nodded; she hadn’t counted the topics in class, but was sure that her friend was right.

When the others emerged at noon, they all talked about the exam for a few minutes. Ginny left and went up to the owlery to send a note to Harry. Bailey was there with her brood; the owlets were growing, and Ginny decided to see if Orion, the biggest, could deliver a message to Hogsmeade by himself. She told him to meet her at her room, and left.

She wrote a long letter describing the exam, Madam Marchbanks, and the old witch’s intelligence about the Puddlemere Keeper, Oliver Wood. After Orion flew off, hooting loudly and with instructions to wait until Harry came home from the Ministry, she lay down on her bed and tried to keep her eyes open, but when Sarah shook her awake and pointed to the closed window, it was the middle of the afternoon. She had missed lunch, and Orion was perched outside on the gargoyle, patiently waiting for someone to let him in. He hopped onto her arm when Ginny opened the window and lifted his leg. She took the parchment; it was the same one she had given to him.

“Drat,” she muttered, and said to the owl, “I guess you didn’t understand. I want you to wait at the inn for Harry to get this. He may not come home for a few more hours. Is your father there?”

Orion blinked a few times, hooted, and flew out the window. Ginny waited, and in fifteen minutes she saw two owls winging back from Hogsmeade. McPherson soared in the open window onto Bailey’s perch, while Orion, with the letter still tied to his leg, landed on her dresser, looking a little flustered and also a little winded. McPherson clucked and lifted his leg. Ginny went and took the message from Orion and gave it to McPherson. Before the owls took off, she gave each a treat, and patted Orion’s head. “Don’t be upset, little owl,” she said. “Just watch your daddy; he’s the best.”

Off the owls went, and this time Ginny knew the message would be waiting for Harry when he got home. Feeling better, she rummaged through her dresser, found the chocolates that Harry had sent last night, and ate them all. She took her Charms books and headed for the library to study for her next exam.

The days and the N.E.W.T.s passed—Charms and Herbology on Wednesday, Transfiguration and Ancient Runes on Thursday, and Defense Against the Dark Arts on Friday. When Harry came to get Ginny late Friday afternoon, she was exhausted beyond caring. She was so tired that she didn’t want to take a chance in the Floo network, so they walked back to the inn with her leaning on Harry’s shoulder. She collapsed on the bed and Harry undressed her and tucked her in while she was half-asleep. He kissed her brow, tiptoed out of the room and spent the evening in the sitting room reading the last two chapters of _Hidden Hexes_. Later, when he decided he wanted to go to sleep, he got into bed next to Ginny and read _A History Of Aurors_ by candlelight. When his eyes started to droop, he blew out the candle, checked Ginny one last time, gave her one last kiss on the forehead, and slept.

The next week was the last of the school year as well as the end of the first year of the Auror training program. Ginny’s classes were perfunctory; the only significant activity was the Leaving Ceremony, held on Wednesday under a marquee set up on the Quidditch pitch. Ginny wasn’t too thrilled with having to be there, since Gryffindor’s score in the House Cup was almost laughable, due mainly to her own unauthorized absences from school; only Slytherin’s score was lower—in fact the lowest in the history of Hogwarts—thanks to the crimes of Jace Kleinhead and his gang; not even Sean, Zoroaster, and Abigail’s heroism could overcome it.

But her family would be there, and not only was she the last Weasley who would attend Hogwarts for many years, she was the first Weasley to actually finish since Percy, five years ago. She also would be presented with the Quidditch Cup, which more Gryffindors cared about than the House Cup, at least this year.

So, after breakfast on Wednesday, Ginny lined up with her roommates and the seventh-year Gryffindor boys in one of the Quidditch dressing rooms, along with the seventh-years from the other Houses, and on a signal blast from Argus Filch’s cannon, they all filed outside under the marquee in a procession led by their House Heads. They sat up on a stage, and Ginny saw her parents smiling at her, her brothers waving at her, and Aunt Muriel glaring at her. Harry was there; he had wangled a couple of hours from Saliyah after promising to get her tickets to the Harpies’ match with Wimbourne. After speeches from the Headmistress, the Head Boy and Girl—Hugh Swift from Hufflepuff and his twin sister Betsy from Ravenclaw—the House Cup was presented to Professor Flitwick; thankfully, McGonagall did not announce the scores, probably out of embarrassment for her own House.

Finally the Quidditch Cup was presented by Madam Hooch. Ginny and the rest of the team stood at the front of the stage and Ginny raised it high. Her name as team captain was engraved on it, next to Harry’s from two years ago, there having been no Cup last year. She looked at the two names and at Harry, sitting below her in the audience; they both grinned, feeling her pride together. After the ceremony Harry had to return to the Ministry but Ginny ate lunch with her family at the Hog’s Head, and went back to school and started packing.

The Auror training program’s term ended on Friday with a get-together in the common room; the  after-party was at the Leaky Cauldron. Later, Harry returned to the inn and Floo’d over to Hogwarts where Ginny was waiting for him in the common room.

“Your name is on the Cup!” Harry said after a snog. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stay for lunch.”

Ginny shrugged. “Let’s get out of here. I’m so itchy to be gone, I can’t stand it.”

They walked down to the lake first, and looked across to the White Tomb. “I suppose I should be thinking about seven glorious years at Hogwarts,” she said as they stood holding hands, “but I just want to go. I want to be with you and I want us to be married. We can come back to reminisce about the good old days whenever we want.”

After the wedding they were going to live in the flat until Ginny got settled in with the Harpies and they could figure out where the best place was to buy or build a house. Ginny had tentatively mentioned Godric’s Hollow, which wasn’t all that far from Holyhead, but Harry wasn’t sure. Besides, they both loved the flat so much that even its relatively cramped living space didn’t bother them; as Ginny said, the closer she was to him the better.

After dinner they went back up to Gryffindor Tower and Harry waited in the common room while Ginny finished her last bit of packing: setting up cages for all seven of her owls. Bailey had her own cage, of course, but there were three more for the owlets, two per cage. They had to put Peanut with Orion, otherwise the little pest would have tormented her cage mate all the way into London and in the car to the Burrow. Emma and Claire would be getting their owls—Rosie and Mocha—after the wedding since the owlets weren’t quite old enough yet to fend for themselves, and also assuming that their parents let them keep the birds at home.

When Ginny was finished they walked back to the inn and spent a few hours in the dining room with their Hogsmeade friends. When they got upstairs, late in the evening, Ginny was moody, and just wanted Harry to hold her.

“It’s all over, but nothing has begun yet to take it’s place,” she murmured in the darkness of their bedroom. “Every year something dreadful happened, but at least this year it ended happily. Now it’s over.”

She sighed and put her hands around Harry’s head and pulled it toward her so that their foreheads touched. “Harry, when I’m here with you and you’re all next to me and touching me, I can’t believe how my life has gone. So many bad things happened over the years, but here I am with you, with the one person I always wanted to be with. I love you so much.”

She was weeping silently, and Harry held her tightly until her tears stopped many minutes later. They kissed gently, then passionately, and fell asleep pressed against each other.

# # # #

 The next day Ginny departed Hogsmeade on the Hogwarts Express. Harry Floo’d directly to the Burrow with his bags; there wouldn’t be enough room in the compartment for him, Ginny, McPherson, Bailey and all the owlets, plus the twins who insisted on traveling with Ginny, Rosie, and Mocha.

But when the train pulled into King’s Cross Station, Harry was there with Charlie and Percy. The twins introduced their bemused parents to the owlets—Emma and Claire had decided to present a _fait accompli_ and hope for the best—and hugged Ginny and Harry goodbye until the wedding. Other goodbyes were said to Luna, Keesha, Dennis, and a few others, and they set off in Percy’s Ministry car. Three hours later they pulled into the lane in front of the Burrow.

Ginny took Harry’s hand, got out and gazed up at the lopsided house. “Let’s go see Fred,” she said.

They walked around back and down to the grave while Charlie and Percy unloaded the car. Ginny put a fresh spray of wildflowers against the headstone and stood close to Harry. “I’m glad he’s here and no place else,” she murmured, “and I’m glad we are too.”


	53. The Wedding of Ginny and Harry

Wedding preparations advanced, impelled by the relentless force of Molly Weasley. She had recovered from the depression that had almost swamped her before and during the anniversary of Fred’s death, and Ginny pretty much let her have her way since the major decisions had already been made: the gown, the guest list, the entertainment, the food, the marquee, the ceremony, the flowers.

Harry settled in the attic room, which he had to himself except for a few nights on weekends when Ron and Hermione stayed over. Percy had offered him his old room, but Harry didn’t want to sleep where, if he didn’t make his bed every day, he knew he would feel the distant disapproval of the room’s former resident. Besides, lack of privacy didn’t matter because Ginny was enforcing the “house rule” with discouraging firmness.

Harry suspected that, other than not wanting to deceive her parents, there was a purpose behind Ginny’s adamancy: to make him crazy. She wouldn’t even go with him to any of the hidey places around the Burrow that they had used last summer. All she would tell him was that, “It just makes me uncomfortable, and besides, when we’re married you can have me as often as you want.”

“But we did break the stupid rule last winter, a couple of times. Can’t we—”

“Harry, no. Goodness, it’s only three weeks until we’re on the honeymoon, which by the way you still won’t tell me where it is. How can I decide what clothes to take if I don’t know what the weather will be like?”

“Don’t worry about the weather, or clothes, either. In fact, don’t take any clothes. But you’re changing the subject.”

Ginny couldn’t help a giggle. “I’ll be happy to wear or not wear whatever you want on the honeymoon, but the subject is closed.”

Harry groaned. “Okay. Would you mind asking your mum to get me a tub of ice water to sit in? Running around the house in my shorts won’t do any good; it’s too warm out.”

Ginny kissed him, but pushed his hands away from her hips. “You’re adorable when you’re suffering. I love you.”

There were some distractions for Harry. A couple of times a week they walked into the village and Ginny, as promised, treated him to ice cream at the local candy shop. They also went up to London to spend a day with Ron and Hermione—who got to show off her new drapes and furniture—and they also visited Andromeda and Teddy. The baby was cruising around the parlor holding onto the furniture, laughing and changing his hair color every few minutes. He also had learned how to make his nose longer or shorter, and tried to make Harry’s nose match by pulling on it. Harry and Ginny enjoyed the visits, and vowed to spend more time with Teddy from now on.

Two weeks before the wedding Ginny told Harry she wanted the dancing to be something more than what Fleur had at her wedding. An orchestra was already hired—Aunt Muriel’s wedding present—but Ginny, remembering Harry’s clumsiness with Parvati at the Yule Ball in her third year, feared that dancing with him would be a chancy thing at best. She asked her mother, Hermione, and finally Fleur what to do, and she wasn’t at all surprised when Fleur announced that she would teach Ginny, Harry, Hermione, and Ron how to waltz.

“Ze waltz is ze expression in motion of romantic love,” she said to them; they were outside by the peach tree on a small wooden platform she had conjured. “When you are waltzing wiz your lover, you are saying to zem, ‘My love is eternal like ze flowing movement of ze dance.’ You must begin and end your wedding celebration wiz a waltz, Ginny. Voldemort deserved to die because ‘e sent ‘is Deat’ Eaters to my wedding before I could dance ze last waltz wiz’ Bill. I will never forgive ‘im for zat.”

“Never mess with a marrying veela,” Ron muttered; Harry chuckled, but Ginny poked his arm and he quickly sobered.

Standing proudly to one side next to one of his prized Muggle contraptions was Arthur, his wand at the ready. At a nod from Fleur, he tapped the old phonograph and the robust strains of a military march filled the air.

“Alors, qu’est-ce que c’est? Not zat one!” Fleur put her hands on her hips and glared at the flustered Arthur. Bill, standing next to the phonograph, reached in and flipped the record over. In a moment they heard the smooth melody of a Viennese waltz.

“Ah, much better,” Fleur smiled. She held her arms out to Bill; he took her and they started to whirl around the platform. “You see? One-two-t’ree, one-two-t’ree! Very easy, very graceful. Let ze music sweep you into a world of nobility and elegance.”

She and Bill split; Fleur took Harry and Bill took Ginny.

“‘Arry, put your ‘and in ze middle of my back, yes, like zat. Now lean back just a little. No, no, not so much, we will fall on our faces. Yes, like zat. Excellent. Now . . .”

In a few minutes both couples were doing a reasonable facsimile of a waltz. Fleur put Harry and Ginny together, and after one or two false starts and lots of giggling, they were both grinning and Ginny’s hair was flying through the air behind her as they danced.

Meanwhile, Fleur and Bill took Ron and Hermione in hand. Ron posed somewhat more of a challenge than Harry; his legs were always crossed and his knees were always knocking into Fleur’s. But Harry and Ginny kept on whirling, and when the music ended, they stood in the middle of the platform, still holding each other and still grinning at each other.

“Wow!” Harry said, looking at Fleur. “You’re right. It takes you away from here.”

“You learned fast,” Bill remarked. “Most people take a while to pick it up.”

“It just felt right.” Harry looked at Ginny. “Didn’t it?”

She nodded. “Come into the kitchen, there’s something I forgot to show you.” She pulled him off the platform and they walked back to the house as the music started again and Ron and Hermione stumbled around the platform.

Ginny didn’t go into the kitchen where her mother and Charlie were sitting at the table; instead she veered and took Harry into the empty parlor and closed the door.

“Did you feel it?” she said, taking both of his hands.

Harry nodded; he took her into the dance position and they started to waltz to the music they could hear from the back yard. “I know exactly where you’re going,” he said as they spun around the room. “It’s almost like I’m dancing with myself, but I’m looking at you and I can feel your whole body move.”

They stopped and Ginny clapped her hands gleefully. “This is brilliant! I so much wanted to dance with you, but I didn’t know how fast we could learn.” She sprang at him and they kissed, but after a minute she pulled her head away and removed his hands from her bottom.

“Take it easy, lad. You’ll only get yourself worked up. Did Mum ever get you that tub of ice water?”

“Actually, I have a better idea,” Harry said brightly. “Let’s go to the field down the lane and—”

“No, no, no.” She put her finger on his lips. “It’s only two more weeks. Be strong.”

Three days before the date, Ginny sprang another surprise on Harry. She found him reading alone in the parlor and informed him that he was going to spend the night before the wedding at the Diggorys’ house, a few miles from the Burrow.

“I’m not superstitious, but Mum made sure that Dad didn’t see her on their wedding day until she walked down the aisle.”

“You don’t call that superstitious? Geez, next you’ll be telling me you don’t believe in ghosts or goblins.”

“I’ve seen those. Please, Harry. The Diggorys said they’d be happy to put you up for a night. I admit it’s silly, but it’ll make me feel better.”

He sighed. “Okay, why not? How will you make sure that I don’t see you when I get back? Should I wear a blindfold?”

Ginny came to where he was sitting in an easy chair and bent down, putting her hands on his shoulders; Harry put his around her hips but this time she didn’t push them away.

“Sweetie, don’t be angry. It’s just for a night, and think of how grand it will be to see me for the first time walking down the aisle toward you.” She leaned in and kissed him.

Harry had no choice.

But an hour later, while he was sitting with Ron near the garden, he couldn’t help his frustration. “For Merlin’s sake,” he grumbled, “why is she doing these things to me?”

Ron and Hermione had arrived early that morning. Ron was supposed to be de-Gnoming the garden, but he decided to soak up a little sun first in the reclining lawn chair that his father had brought home last summer.

“What things?” he asked, not bothering to open his eyes.

“She won’t let me touch her until the honeymoon. It’s been months! Can you believe it? And now I’ll have to sleep in a strange bed the night before the wedding. I probably wasn’t going to sleep much anyway, but this guarantees it.”

“Months . . . that’s tough. Hermione does that sometimes. It’s a pain, but when she relents it’s pretty fantastic.” He opened one eye and peered at Harry. “I’ll bet the two of them cooked it up together.”

“Actually, maybe it’s better not to be here the night before. I’m sure they’ll all be nutters. Why don’t you stay at the Diggorys with me?”

Ron sat up and grinned. “Hey, that’s a brilliant idea! I’ll tell Mum I’m waiting to de-Gnome the garden until that evening, and then I’ll be gone. The next morning she’ll be too crazy to think about it.” He lay back and closed his eyes with a satisfied smile.

The next day, two days before the wedding, Neville arrived with Keesha in tow. The Weasleys had commissioned him to create a living marquee in their back yard, with walls and roof of vines supported by trees, and with growing flowers entwined in the vines. Neville set up shop in the open space between the peach tree and the woods, and went to work.

Harry offered to help, just to take his mind off his own uselessness, and soon they were joined by Ron, Hermione, and Charlie. Neville spent an hour teaching them the magic, and a couple of hours later there were a dozen slim trees growing in a large circle, with two more rising in the center. When the outer trees were about eight feet high, they stopped growing and began throwing out branches, some sloping up at an angle towards the pole trees in the center, and others growing straight out, parallel to the ground away from the center for about six feet, forming an overhang. Trellises sprang up between the trees.

Meanwhile, the two trees inside the circle grew to meet the branches from the outer ring. When they met, about twenty feet up, vines began to rise up the trellises and then up the branches to the twin peaks of the roof. By the eve of the wedding, the living marquee was ready, and Fleur began decorating it with magic lanterns and fairy globes that gave off a silvery glow.

That day, the day before the wedding, Harry’s nervousness began to grow. He wanted to talk to Ginny to try to calm himself, but she was constantly busy with final adjustments to her gown—kept in her mother’s room behind a locked door— and conferences with Molly, Fleur, and Hermione about food and the bouquets they all would be carrying. In the early afternoon Ginny flew into a rage when her mother announced that she wanted the Prewett cousins to precede the Athair twins up the aisle. Charlie and Bill got her calmed down, but Harry was standing outside the parlor when she exploded. He tiptoed away and went back up to the attic room and joined Ron, out of sight, lying low.

By dinnertime the entire family had arrived at the Burrow, except Aunt Muriel who would be fetched by Charlie and Percy in the morning. The kitchen was crowded and noisy. After dinner, as dusk was falling, Harry and Ron packed up their wedding attire and brought their bags downstairs. George cracked a few jokes about being sure to come back in the morning, which Ginny did not smile at. Molly gave Harry and Ron typical hugs, and they walked outside with Ginny and Hermione.

The marquee stood beyond the garden; it seemed to stir and move of its own volition. Next to the garden Ginny turned, put her hands on Harry’s chest, and kissed him.

“The next time I kiss you I’ll be your wife,” she whispered.

Harry dropped his bag and took her in his arms. “I love you, Ginny Weasley,” he whispered back. “Tomorrow will be the best day of my life.”

Ginny held him tight, and when she looked up at him again her eyes were moist. “I love you too, Harry Potter.”

Harry picked up his bag. “Come on, mate,” he said to Ron. He blew a kiss to Ginny and he and Ron turned on their heels. A moment later they were outside another gate in front of the Diggorys’ house.

Amos Diggory and his wife bustled out to greet them, Amos with his arms extended. “Welcome, welcome! I’m so glad we could help. When Arthur asked us to put you up, I told him that Frances here had done the very same thing to me.” He chuckled and his wife smiled.

“Come in, boys,” she said. “Would you like something to eat? I made a nice peach pie this afternoon. It was Cedric’s favorite.”

They walked through a small sitting room and into a kitchen that was much neater than Molly’s. They sat at a small table and Mrs. Diggory put out plates and a wonderfully aromatic peach pie.

“Thanks, Mrs. Diggory,” Ron said after he had wolfed down his fourth piece. “This is really good.”

She looked at him in wonder as he took a fifth slice. “Another one for you, dear?” She offered more to Harry, but he put his hand up.

“No thank you. I think I’d just like to go to bed. I’m a little jittery.” He laughed nervously.

“I understand,” she smiled, then sighed and wiped her eye. “Cedric would have liked to be at your wedding, I know for certain. He was very proud during the Tournament to be competing against you.”

“He helped me, you know. I never would have got as far as I did otherwise.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Mrs. Diggory wiped another tear. “Oh, dear. I didn’t mean to get like this. Amos, why don’t you show the boys to their room?”

Mr. Diggory led them upstairs. On the second landing he pointed to a closed door. “That was his room. Here’s the guest room.” He opened the door across the landing. “We put another cot in it. I think you’ll find it comfortable enough. The loo is just down the hall.”

It was small but cozy, with two beds and a few other pieces of furniture, as well as a mirror hanging on the wall. “Looks great,” Harry said.

Mr. Diggory wished them goodnight and closed the door. Ron dropped his bag on the smaller cot.

‘You take the bed. You’ll need all the rest you can get.” He flopped on the cot and put his hands behind his head on the pillow. “So, how are you feeling? And weren’t you going to tell me tonight where the honeymoon is?” Harry told him, and Ron grinned. “That’s perfect. She’ll flip when she gets there. Good show.”

They talked about the wedding, the waltzing at which Ron was certain he would make a fool of himself, and what their plans were for after the honeymoon. “You and I don’t have to be back at the Ministry until September,” Ron said. “Maybe we can all spend a weekend in Paris. It sounded like a lot of fun.”

“Ginny will be in training camp the entire month of August,” Harry answered. “They have three or four friendlies, and the season starts on September 15 against Puddlemere.” He told Ron about the tip that Griselda Marchbanks had given Ginny, and Ron laughed.

“I heard that old crone loves Quidditch and loves to bet on the matches. I wonder what the odds are on that one now.”

After talking for an hour, Harry decided to turn in. He tossed and turned for another hour but when he finally fell asleep he slept soundly and dreamed he was dancing with Ginny high in the air above the sea.

# # # #

Dawn broke on Ginny and Harry’s wedding day. The sky at first was overcast and there were a few brief showers, but as the sun rose, a cool westerly breeze pushed the clouds away and the sky cleared. leaving the air bright and fresh.

Harry awoke as the sun was coming up; he lay in bed for a few minutes staring at the ceiling. This was it, this was the day he had been awaiting for months, maybe even since the day after the Battle of Hogwarts. He and Ginny were going to be together, alone, for two weeks on their honeymoon, and besides the wedding itself, he had never anticipated anything so much. He touched the Bouquedelle that he had hung around his neck before leaving the Burrow last night, but he had no desire to put it to his lips. Today all he wanted was the real thing: his beloved Ginny.

“Morning,” he heard Ron mumble from the cot. “How’d you sleep?”

“Great!” Harry swung his legs out of bed and tossed his pillow onto Ron’s head. “Let’s go, I don’t want to be late.”

“Merlin, it’s not even seven o’clock. We don’t have to be there for three hours.”

“I don’t care. I want to be ready.”

Ron threw the pillow back and turned over. Harry got up and opened the wardrobe where they had hung their tuxedos. Ginny had decided that all the men in the wedding party would wear Muggle wedding attire; she said that formal dress robes reminded her of all the memorial services at Hogwarts, and besides, Harry looked perfectly gorgeous in a tux with emerald green trim.

He ran his fingers over the fine material, took the tux from the wardrobe and started to dress. He was putting the pants on when Ron sat up in bed and stared at him.

“What the hell are you doing? Take a shower, then eat, then get dressed. Someone will just have to Scourgify you; you’re bound to spill something all over yourself.”

“Oh,” Harry said distractedly. “I didn’t think of that.”

Ron grinned. “Ready for action, are we?”

Harry started to take off his pants, but got stuck with one leg half-way out, lost his balance and began hopping on his other leg. He fell backward onto his bed while Ron laughed.

“Can I make a suggestion?” he said when Harry had finally taken his pants off. “Hang the monkey suit up, get back into bed, and start over.”

Harry scowled, but did hang his clothes up. He put his jeans on and went out. In fifteen minutes he was back with a towel wrapped around his middle, carrying his jeans. He put on fresh underwear and his jeans, and went to the door and opened it.

“She’s up, by the way. You can smell breakfast,” he said over his shoulder, then stood aside as Ron leaped out of bed, threw on his own jeans and a tee shirt, and bolted for the door. “Ready for action?” he called to Ron’s back as his friend hurried down the stairs.

Mrs. Diggory was prepared for Ron this time, and there was plenty of food. Harry didn’t think she was as good as Molly or Winky, but he figured she only had herself and her husband to cook for. They were back upstairs at seven-thirty, but when he went to the wardrobe again, Ron slammed it shut.

“We don’t have to be ready for two and a half more hours, mate. Chill!”

Harry sighed and lay down on the bed. “What am I supposed to do until then?” His nervousness was returning, and he felt Mrs. Diggory’s sausages—a little on the greasy side—starting to churn in his stomach.

“Think about the honeymoon.”

“Oh, right, that’ll calm me down, especially after a month of no . . .”

Ron looked over at him. “I didn’t mean that. Think about lazing around doing nothing for two blissful weeks.”

“I’ll try to nap. We’ll be up late tonight, at least I hope we will.”

“You two are beyond belief sometimes. Yeah, take a nap, I suspect you’ll need to keep up your strength for a while.”

Harry did manage to fall back to sleep. Ron, freshly showered, awakened him at nine-thirty and Harry started dressing again. He put his formal shirt on standing in front of the mirror. “I can’t get this damn thing buttoned,” he muttered. Ron peered at him; Harry’s hands were shaking and there were beads of sweat on his face.

“Hold on.” Ron finished buttoning his own shirt and came over to Harry. “Let me give you a hand.”

“No, I have it—ah, crap.” The button popped off and flew onto the bed; Harry picked it up and looked at it. “What the hell do I do now? Do you know how to sew on a button?”

“No, but Mrs. Diggory probably does. I’ll go get her. You finish dressing, if you think you can handle it by yourself.”

Ron left and Harry stood motionless until the door opened and Mrs. Diggory came in with her wand. “It’s a simple Reparo,” she tisked. Harry looked down; his shirt was fixed and completely buttoned.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, embarrassed. “I should have thought of that.”

“Not at all. I’m sure you have lots of other things to think about.” She stepped back as Harry put on the cummerbund and the jacket. “Oh, my, Ginny is a lucky girl. You look very handsome, Harry.”

He blushed and turned to look at himself in the mirror. For a moment he felt Ginny with him, but it passed almost instantly. _She’s keeping me out so I won’t see her_ , he thought, and smiled to himself.

Ron was already dressed. They took their bags and went downstairs; Mr. Diggory came out of the parlor and looked them over. “Very handsome,” he said approvingly. “Is it time for you to leave?”

“Yes, sir.” Harry held out his hand. “And thank you very much for letting us stay.”

“Not at all. We’ll see you in a few hours.”

Harry and Ron stepped into the yard, waved goodbye to the Diggorys, and were back in front of the Burrow.

The door flew open and Emma and Claire came charging out. “Mrs. Weasley said you would be back soon!” Emma shouted in greeting. “We’re getting dressed in an hour. Ginny’s upstairs but she said you can’t come in the house.”

“We saw her gown, but she’ll give us bat bogeys if we say anything,” Claire said. “And guess what? Our parents said we can keep the owls! We’ll be taking Rosie and Mocha home with us. Now we can send letters to everyone!”

Harry looked mournfully at Ron. “I can’t even go in the house. What am I supposed to do if I need the loo?”

“There’s a, um, a bunch of little houses in the woods where you can . . .” Emma turned red and giggled.

“Just watch out for the spiders,” Ron grinned.

Harry sighed, but before he could register another complaint, two young owls zoomed a foot over his head; one landed on Emma’s arm and the other on Claire’s.

“They’re hiding in the marquee vines,” said Claire as she stroked Mocha’s back. “Mrs. Weasley wanted them to leave, but Ginny wants them to see the wedding. She told them they could stay if they were quiet and didn’t poop on anyone.”

Harry rolled his eyes at Ron, but his friend grinned once more. “Relax and enjoy, mate. I’ll go tell Ginny you’re here.”

He went into the house and Harry walked around back with the twins, who said they would show him the “little houses” in the woods. But the first thing Harry noticed was the marquee. The vines had thickened to form a dense roof; the sides weren’t as thick, and he could see through them. Tables were set up around the circumference under the overhang, like an outdoor café. Harry walked through one of the entries into the marquee and the girls followed.

It felt like being inside a dream, with silvery light from dozens of fairy globes mixed with a bit of sunlight filtering through the green ceiling. A magical parquet floor covered most of the ground, made of dark red and light brown inlaid wooden tiles polished to a satin smoothness that reflected but softened the fairy light. Harry looked up and saw thousands of white, gold, and red flowers growing in the vines.

For the ceremony the inside of the marquee resembled a small, round amphitheater. Four rows of seats rose from a central circular area about twenty feet across; the rows of seats surrounded the central pit except for four aisles. The first level was a foot above the floor, and each level rose a foot above the one below it; this would give everyone a view of the ceremony. The seats were padded and looked very comfortable.

After the ceremony, the seats and the amphitheater would vanish, leaving a level surface where the guest tables would appear. And when dinner was finished, the tables and chairs would move to one end, away from the bandstand, and the floor would be cleared for dancing.

Off to one side, the head table was already set with a white tablecloth. Next to it was another table on which sat a multi-tiered wedding cake; Winky was perched on a stool in front of it, finishing off the decorations. The twins ran to see her and Harry looked around.

On the other side of the interior, opposite the head table, was the bandstand. The professional orchestra that Aunt Muriel had hired would share it with the Huffle Badgers, led by Keesha. Harry saw her and Neville—in his tuxedo—and walked over.

“Harry Potter, you are beautiful!” Keesha jumped down and examined his tuxedo, straightening his bow tie and brushing a speck of dust from his lapel. “Ginny won’t be able to keep her hands off you.”

Harry grinned. “This marquee is brilliant,” he said to Neville.

“Well, I already told Ginny, but it’s my wedding present to you. Mrs. Weasley wanted to pay me, but I told her no.”

Harry felt a rush of emotion, including tears. “That’s great,” he said thickly. “Thanks, Neville.” He shook his friend’s hand and they stood awkwardly until Harry glanced at Keesha, who was looking at him with a small smile. “And the band is your present?” She nodded, and Harry gave her a hug. “Thanks.”

“I was fishing for a hug,” she laughed. “Gotta go, though. We’re on second so we have to get set up and do our sound checks first.”

She hopped back on the bandstand and Harry walked with Neville to see how Winky was doing.

“You and Keesha seem pretty tight,” Harry remarked as they made their way around the amphitheater.

“Yeah, but we’ll see what happens. We’re both set on careers that would kind of keep us apart.”

“Why, what’s she interested in?”

“She wants to do archeology in Africa. There’s a whole school of thought that says magic originated there. Have you heard of that?”

Harry shook his head; they were standing in front of the cake where Winky was placing the last bit of frosting on top; Emma and Claire had disappeared. Winky hadn’t taken notice of them and Harry didn’t want to distract her. “I thought it began in Albania or Egypt or someplace like that.”

“Egypt is in Africa,” Neville said.

“Well, yeah, but it isn’t black Africa.”

“Used to be. But Keesha says there’s lots of evidence that magic started in the forests farther south. Anyway, she wants to move or at least spend a lot of time there.”

“But there must be lots of magical plants there that you could study.”

“I suppose so, but I’ve really become interested in British magical flora. And . . .” He looked down. “Professor Sprout wants me to become her assistant at Hogwarts.”

Harry grinned at him. “That’s brilliant, Neville. We’ll be in Hogsmeade for a while too.”

Neville nodded. “So we’ll see what happens. Keesha signed up for an expedition this fall. It’s being funded by a rich shopkeeper in Diagon Alley. I think you know him; it’s where you got your rings. His daughter is interested in African culture. They’ll be gone for half a year, and we’ll see how things stand after that.”

“I’ll miss her.”

“Yeah, me too,” Neville sighed. Harry thought back to the day after the battle when Keesha had more or less seduced Neville by talking about the sword of Gryffindor. He smiled to himself and put his hand on Neville’s shoulder.

Winky had climbed down from the stool and was examining her cake. Harry stepped closer and peered at it.

“Be careful, Harry Potter!” she squeaked. “Winky’s cake is for everyone, especially Ginny Weas— Ginny Potter. How will Winky explain it if Harry Potter’s nose is in Ginny Potter’s cake?”

Harry stepped back. “It’s beautiful, Winky.”

“Yes, Winky’s cake is beautiful, especially without Harry Potter’s nose stuck in it.”

“She’s a treasure,” Harry said to Neville as they walked away. “I was wondering what she was going to do with Ginny’s last name.”

Neville was silent as they approached the bandstand; Keesha was talking to the bass player and didn’t see them. “I’m glad you’ll be living in Hogsmeade,” he said. “I’m expecting the next few months to be rough.”

“We’ll be there, mate.”

Keesha finished her sound checks and stepped off the bandstand, with a kiss for Neville. “Time to get dressed,” she said, and hurried outside. They saw her speak to Luna, who was standing with Dean and Seamus in front of one of the entrances to the marquee. The two girls went to the back door of the house and inside.

After wandering around the marquee for a while, Harry and Neville went out to join Dean and Seamus, who were also in their formalwear. A few minutes later Harry heard Ron call his name. He looked and saw his best man standing at the back door of the Burrow, beckoning. He walked over.

“It’s time to get ready, mate,” Ron said, adjusting the yellow orchid in his lapel. “You’re supposed to go into the parlor through the back door and get fixed up. Ginny is upstairs.”

“Yes, sir.” Harry waved to Dean, Neville, and Seamus, and they all went inside.

They met Charlie and Percy coming out; both of them were also wearing tuxedos with yellow orchids in the lapels. “You look great, Harry,” Charlie said, reaching up to straighten Harry’s bow tie. “Nervous?”

“I was until I got here. Now I want the party to start.”

“Good!” Charlie clapped him on the back. Percy smiled and nodded as the two walked to the marquee to take up their ushering stations.

Inside the Burrow was chaos, but Harry couldn’t tell if it was controlled or not. He could hear loud voices from the second floor just above his head. A window somewhere flew open and he heard Mrs. Weasley shrieking something about flowers. There were more shouts, and he almost collided with Fleur who was carrying a large bouquet of red roses.

“You did not see zis!” she cried, whipping it behind her and backing up the stairs so that it remained out of sight.

Harry next saw Arthur Weasley in his tuxedo, pacing between the parlor door and the kitchen, a lost look on his face.

‘Harry! There you are,” he said loudly when he saw the boys. “You need to flower yourself. I mean put the flower in—on . . .”

Harry looked at Ron, then at Arthur. “It’s okay, Mr. Weasley, I think I can handle it.”

“I know that. Thank you, thank you so much for everything, my dear Harry.” He took Harry’s hand and started pumping it. “Molly has everything under control, as you can see.”

The back door banged open. They heard shrieks, and Emma and Claire raced past them, smashing into chairs, knocking one over. They were followed by three younger girls who Harry had never seen before. They were all wearing fluffy, cream-colored dresses with matching flats and ribbons in their hair.

“Hi, Harry!” Emma called as they flew out the front door. Claire slammed it shut in the face of the leading Prewett cousin, who crashed into it and backed up, causing her trailing sisters to pile up behind her. They yanked the door open and ran out after the twins.

“She does have things well in hand,” Harry said to Arthur. “Aren’t I supposed to go into the parlor?”

“Yes, yes, you are. Thank you, thank you for everything, my boy.” He kept shaking Harry’s hand, until finally Harry had to pull it away.

“Come on,” Ron said, rolling his eyes.

Inside the parlor Aunt Muriel sat regally on the couch, attended by Bill and George. Neville, Dean, and Seamus already had yellow flowers in their lapels and passed Harry on their way back outside. The ancient witch beckoned to Harry when she saw him.

“Here, young man,” she said and took the lone red orchid lying on the cushion. Harry stood in front of her as she slipped it through his lapel buttonhole and affixed it in place with a tap of her wand. She looked him up and down.

“You are very handsome, Mr. Potter, but I know that is not why my Ginevra is marrying you, although it doesn’t hurt,” she added with a snicker. “I welcome you to the Prewett and Weasley families. You and Ginevra have my blessing, for what it’s worth.”

Harry leaned over and kissed her cheek.

“Oh!” She touched the place where his lips had been and smiled. “Yes, I do know why she’s marrying you. Now, you are to remain here until that nephew of mine, the one who needs a haircut, gives the signal. At that time, you and all of your good-looking young friends are to go to the marquee and await the arrival of Ginevra’s wedding party—”

“I know, ma’am. We rehearsed yesterday, so everything is all set.”

“Don’t call me ma’am. I’m not the Muggle Queen of England. Aunt Muriel will do fine.”

“Yes, Aunt Muriel.”

George, sitting next to her on the couch, was barely able to contain his mirth; Harry gave him a look, which only increased his hilarity.

Bill got out of his chair and took Harry’s arm; he led him away from the couch to a window that looked out onto the back yard. “Is everything okay? Did you sleep well?”

“Well enough,” said Harry. “Your dad is in a state, though. Have you seen him? He’s in the kitchen and I think if his head fell off and rolled under the table he wouldn’t notice.”

Bill laughed. “His baby is getting married. He’ll be fine as soon as the wedding starts. Is everything all set for the honeymoon?”

“Yes,” Harry grinned. “And thanks for everything.”

“Not at all. I know you’ll have a great time.”

At that moment a lone, pretty young woman walked past the window, looking around hesitantly; it was Ginger Beale. Harry called to Ron and pointed her out. “She’s the girl Ginny met at the tryouts. Can you go introduce her to the guys? She doesn’t know anyone here.”

Ron went outside and Harry saw him lead her to where the ushers were standing next to the marquee. She started talking with them, and Harry smiled when Dean led her away and over to one of the refreshment tables.

Harry sat on the couch next to George and they talked about Hogsmeade, where he was planning to live with Angelina. George also mentioned that the twins were going to spend a week with him and Angelina, helping to finish fixing up Zonko’s for the new Hogwarts term in September. “They’re incredible,” George said. “I never saw two smarter kids; they’re always full of ideas. They’re going to be richer than you.”

Finally, at noon, Charlie stuck his head in the door. “Time, Aunt Muriel and gentlemen. Harry, your moment draws near.”

“You make it sound like he’s getting his head chopped off,” quipped George.

“Mr. George Weasley,” said Aunt Muriel as she rose and took Charlie’s arm, “has anyone told you recently that you talk too much?”

“No, ma’am, not since the last time you did.”

“I’ll have to say it more often, then. Ignore him, Mr. Potter,” she said over her shoulder to Harry who was following them out of the room. “You will have four other brothers-in-law, so you don’t need this one.”

Arthur, still pacing in the kitchen, stopped when he saw the procession heading outside. “Is it time?” He hurried over to the bottom of the stairs and peered up. “I don’t see her. I hope everything’s all right.”

Bill put his hand on his father’s shoulder. “Dad, relax. Mum and Fleur are up there with her. Everything is under control.”

“I know,” he sighed. “Everything except me.” He took out a handkerchief and mopped his brow. “Harry, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. Shouldn’t you be the nervous one?”

“I’m becoming a little nervous, now that you mention it,” Harry said.

“Good!” Arthur declared. “Now I feel better.”

“Okay,” said Bill, “let’s roll. We have to be out of here before Ginny can come down. George, the rings?”

George took two small velvet boxes from his pocket, one red, the other green. He held them up and Bill flicked his wand; a white silk pillow appeared, and George set the ring boxes on it. He took the pillow from Bill and held it before him.

Bill opened the back door. “Let’s go! Everyone’s seated.” Percy was right behind him, and he and Charlie each took one of Aunt Muriel’s arms.

The procession left the Burrow, except for George who would bring the rings at the head of the bridal party. Aunt Muriel with Charlie and Percy led the way; the others followed. When they got outside they saw Emma and Claire, trailed by the Prewett cousins, tearing around the side of the house; a moment later they heard the front door bang open and Fleur yell, “Come, girls! It is time! Quickly!”

The groom’s procession was joined by Dean, Neville, and Seamus. They entered the marquee through the entrance near Winky’s cake, and as soon as they were spotted, heads turned, a hush fell over the assemblage, and the orchestra took up a slow but cheery march. They passed down an aisle between the raised seats and Harry looked up at the faces there. He nodded to Minerva McGonagall and Filius Flitwick, who seemed to have gotten over their spat about the Quidditch Cup. Tony Trostle and Carlos grinned at him.

They walked into the center of the amphitheater where the Minister for Magic stood. Charlie and Percy escorted Aunt Muriel to a front row seat and joined the rest of the groom’s party in a semicircle on the left of Kingsley. Harry stood next to the Minister who gave him a warm, wide smile; he was dressed in wildly colorful robes with a huge gold earring dangling from his right ear.

Harry gazed around; he wanted to savor every moment and remember every detail. He filled himself up with the beauty of the living marquee, the people, the music, and the faces nearest him. Ginny was already there, even if he couldn’t see her; he knew she was now with her parents outside the back door of the Burrow, waiting for the signal. He felt an exhilarating anticipation, but he loved the suspense and the drama. He wanted her with him yet he wanted the expectancy to stretch out.

There were so many people here who he loved. He saw Mary Wilson and Madam Rosmerta; Stan and Harriet whose wedding would be in the fall. Saliyah was sitting next to a witch who Harry didn’t recognize at first, but realized after a moment that it was Laura Lovegood, attractive for the first time he could remember. She wore blue dress robes trimmed in bronze, and her blonde hair fell around her shoulders instead of being tied up in a tight bun.

He grinned at Sean, Zoroaster, and Abigail who were fidgeting in the second row, turning their heads to the entrance every few seconds, undoubtedly looking for Emma and Claire. He gazed at Zoroaster. The boy had grown considerably since last fall, and he looked more like Sirius than ever. Harry was glad that someone from the Black family was at his wedding.

Dennis Creevey was sitting behind the Slytherins with the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. The intrepid Keeper grinned and held up his camera; Harry smiled back.

He looked to his right past Kingsley, and there were Hagrid and Madame Maxime standing at the end of an aisle; Hagrid was already wiping his eyes with a huge handkerchief. Harry felt his heart lurch for the man who had always been there for him, from picking him out of the wreckage at Godric’s Hollow when he was a baby, to carrying his seemingly lifeless body out of the Forest just a year ago.

Harry felt Ron move next to him. He looked at his best man, the friend he had depended on for eight years. Ron had gone through so much on Harry’s account, had given so much of himself and asked for so little in return. Harry couldn’t imagine a better life than one where his best mate was also Ginny’s brother.

On the other side of Ron stood Bill; Harry suddenly realized that his disfigured face now seemed normal. Bill looked at him and winked, and Harry smiled; he felt safe with Bill, almost as he had felt with Sirius. Ginny’s other brothers stood on Bill’s left: Charlie, who had always shown Harry a loyalty that came from his fierce love of Ginny; and Percy, who had always . . . well, Percy had helped Harry unselfishly, and Harry was grateful.

On the other side of Percy stood his roommates, three friends whom he had lived with for six years, who had fought alongside him, risking their lives with him. He knew that the five roommates would always be there for each other, sharing a bond for the rest of their lives.

The music changed, and George appeared at the main entrance carrying the two ring boxes on the silk pillow. He paused until he was sure that every eye was upon him, and solemnly walked up the aisle. He glanced around, as though looking for someone.

George stopped in front of Harry, bowed his head, and stepped into the empty space between Ron and Bill.

The music changed again, and Ginny’s bridesmaids came up the aisle, stunning in gold dresses trimmed with red lace embroidery and gold ribbons in their hair. They walked one at a time: Keesha, Luna, Angelina, and Audrey; they carried bouquets of red and gold roses. They moved into another semi-circle on Kingsley’s right; Harry held his breath when Luna stared up at the ceiling for several moments, but she must have sensed his gaze, because she looked at him with the most radiant smile Harry had ever seen on her face. He smiled back and relaxed.

Two figures appeared in the entrance; Harry’s eyes grew wide and Ron and Bill sucked in their breaths. Ginny’s Maid and Matron of Honor—Hermione and Fleur—stood there, each one impossibly beautiful in her gold dress; even their contrasting hair colors added to the compelling picture they made. Their gowns had red sashes around the waist and were trimmed with red roses. They wore golden shoes and earrings of pale yellow stones that glowed in the light of the magic lanterns. Their bouquets were red and yellow roses.

They both gazed around the amphitheater, smiling at people in the seats, and started slowly up the aisle. Hermione was elegant and stately; her eyes glistened and her smile went from ear to ear. Fleur was regal and dazzling; her silver hair took on gold overtones that added to her awesome beauty. Harry couldn’t take his eyes from them. He was used to being overwhelmed by Fleur’s stunning looks, but Hermione’s radiance was a wonder to behold. He glanced at Ron who was staring at her as though struck by a spell.

Fleur graced Harry with one of her beatific smiles, and Hermione pursed her lips at him, sending him a silent kiss. They took their places next to an appreciative Kingsley.

The five flower girls came next, as Harry’s anticipation mounted; he could see shadows outside the marquee, and he knew that one of them was Ginny. But he couldn’t ignore the Athair twins’ bubbling enthusiasm and glee as they scattered white petals up the aisle. They walked very slowly, grinning like crazy, milking the moment for all it was worth. The poor Prewett cousins kept running into the twins’ heels, but Emma and Claire ignored them. Emma, in her innocent brashness, actually spoke to Professor Sprout who was sitting on the aisle in the third row; the professor looked at her in surprise, answered her, and glanced around to see if anyone had noticed. Harry marveled at their determination to enjoy themselves to the hilt.

The flower girls took their places next to the bridesmaids, and Harry let out a breath.

The orchestra struck up the wedding march and everyone rose from their seats and turned. There was a collective gasp, and a murmur swept the marquee. Ginny stood, framed in the entry by flowering vines. Molly was on her right and Arthur on her left, but no one noticed them; no one could take their eyes from Ginny.

Harry stepped forward, and now he stood in the center of the circle in front of Kingsley, staring open-mouthed, transfixed. But whereas everyone else saw an alluring bride in a romantic cream-colored gown, Harry saw a figure beautiful beyond knowing, surrounded by a silver-white glow. In the dazzling light that shone for him and no other, he could clearly make out three details as sharp as if they were right before his eyes.

On Ginny’s head was the tiara that Aunt Muriel had given her; its burnished gold was like the sun, and the gems embedded in it cast piercing red, blue, and green rays back at him.

Around her neck was her veela necklace; the solitaire diamond lay between her breasts, just above the neckline of her gown. It radiated a power that Harry was sure only he could feel, because through it he saw into Ginny’s heart, and there he saw himself.

On her left hand was the ruby ring; the blood-red stones pulsed and throbbed with hidden might. Through the swirling glow that surrounded Ginny, Harry clearly saw their two Patronuses, stag and doe, standing guard above her. For a moment he thought his parents were there, but the brilliance of the light about Ginny made it difficult to tell.

Harry saw all that, but as Ginny and her parents approached, everything else faded and he saw only her. Her blazing eyes, looking directly at him, now held the incandescence that had surrounded her. His own gaze swept down her gown and his breath caught at the beauty and sensuality of her form; he wanted her, he longed to possess her. He could see her blush as she sensed his desire, and he received in return her willingness and her own desire to possess him. His face grew warm.

Ginny stood before him and they could not tear their eyes from each other. But she turned to her mother and Molly embraced her, kissing her cheeks and her lips as tears poured down her face. Molly took Harry and did the same to him; he felt her embrace, soft, warm, maternal. She was weeping as she stepped back.

Ginny’s father took her hand; he kissed it and lifted her chin with a finger. “My precious Ginny,” he whispered. Arthur gave her hand to Harry and stepped back. He and Molly took seats next to Aunt Muriel, who sat erect in her chair, dabbing at her eyes with a lace handkerchief.

Harry put his hand under Ginny’s and they stood looking at each other; there was not a sound in the marquee until, after what seemed like many minutes, Kingsley discretely cleared his throat. They turned to him and the Minister smiled, then gestured to Hermione who came and took Ginny’s bouquet of red roses. He looked over the hushed crowd, and spoke in a loud, ringing voice.

Neither Harry nor Ginny heard a word; they were inside each other’s mind, each other’s heart. Harry took both of Ginny’s hands while the Minister spoke about the joyous event that had brought so many people together, while he talked about the Weasleys and reminisced about the Potters. Still Harry and Ginny stood, only inches apart, their fingers gently caressing, leaning slightly towards each other, their eyes blinking and their lips moving slightly as silent words passed between them.

Kingsley spoke for ten minutes. When he stopped, Harry and Ginny looked at him, almost surprised that he was there.

George stepped forward with the rings. Kingsley gestured and a large white cushion appeared on the floor. Fleur held Ginny’s train as she and Harry sank to their knees on the cushion, facing each other. George bent low and the green box opened. Harry took the gold ring and held it up. He took Ginny’s left hand.

“Ginny,” he said in a low voice that was meant only for her but carried to the top row of the amphitheater. “Ginny, I put this ring on your finger as a pledge of my love for you. You are my life; you will always be my life. I vow that I will love you forever, without condition, without judgment, without limit. I will protect you, I will take care of you, I will support you, I will be strong for you. We will live our lives always together. We will raise our children in total love. I will use every power I possess, every thought in my mind, every feeling in my heart to love you and cherish you. My love is yours, forever.”

He slipped the ring onto her finger in front of the ruby ring.

George bent low again and the red box opened. Ginny took the gold ring, identical to hers, and held it up. She took Harry’s left hand.

“My Harry,” she said in a voice that came to Harry as music, “I put this ring on your finger as a pledge of my love for you. You are the love of my life. My love is for you, always and forever. I will protect you, I will take care of you, I will support you, I will be strong for you. I will care for you when you are well and when you are sick. My love will feed your soul and fill your heart, as it fills mine. There will never be a barrier between us; our hearts will be open to the sky. Our children will be born from inside me, and they will flourish in our love as a flower in sunshine. My love is yours, forever.”

She slipped the ring onto his finger.

Their hands gripped, their fingers entwined; they could not have released them if they wanted. Fleur helped Ginny rise and they stood as the cushion vanished. George stepped back. There was not a sound in the marquee.

Kingsley Shacklebolt placed his hands on their heads. “With all the power I possess, I bless this union. It is also blessed by everyone who is witness to it, either by their presence here or by their presence in our hearts.

“Harry James Potter and Ginevra Molly Weasley, as Minister for Magic in Britain, I declare that you are married by the laws of our world. But it is by the laws of your hearts that your true union exists. Nothing outside of yourselves can now sunder you.”

He took his wand from his robes and waved it above them. A shower of silver stars fell about them. “Congratulations!” Kingsley beamed.

They took each other in their arms and kissed; their bodies crushed against each other and their mouths fused. An ovation slowly filled the marquee; first Aunt Muriel stood as she clapped, and gradually everyone did. In the vines above them, two owls and six owlets hooted.

Ginny and Harry heard nothing, just as they had not heard Kingsley when he first spoke. As their bodies pressed together, their hearts beat in unison; every thought in one mind was in the other; every sensation one felt was felt by the other. Their bodies and minds did not exist separately; they had complete knowledge of each other. But this time they did not pull back in fright; this time they plunged in, two souls but one person.

After what seemed like an hour but was only a few seconds, a perception penetrated.

_There are people around us._

_Our family and our friends._

They broke apart and heard the cheers and applause, the laughter and crying. Ron and Hermione were next to them, hugging them as Kingsley shook their hands. Ginny turned and flung herself into George’s arms; he clung to her, weeping, while Bill put his arms around them both. Harry was shaking hands with both of his, and trying to keep from staggering as his old roommates pounded him on the back. Emma and Claire were jumping up and down, screaming; Ginny and Harry hugged them both.

It was beautiful bedlam. The circle became crowded as people left their seats to join the wedding party; everyone wanted to get to the newlyweds. Finally, the bridesmaids and groomsmen formed a phalanx for Harry and Ginny and pushed their way out into the sunshine. Back in the marquee, Percy tried to usher everyone out. “Please clear the area!” he shouted. “We have to convert the floor. Please clear the area!”

The newlyweds stood next to the garden, Ginny with her bouquet again. Ron and Hermione were there, and Harry grabbed Ron and Hermione at the same time and hugged them. He glanced into the garden and put his hand on Ron’s arm; Ron turned and saw a dozen gnomes watching them.

Someone caught up Ginny in a smothering hug. Molly was crying and laughing as she let Ginny go and grabbed Harry.

“Oh, my darlings,” she said, wiping her eyes. “How beautiful! It was perfect. You are both beautiful!”

“Thanks, Mum,” Harry said, then put his hand to his mouth and stared at Ginny.

“What’s wrong?” she said, laughing. “That’s her name.”

Arthur and Ginny held each other in an embrace that lasted more than several minutes. When they separated, Arthur wiped his tears, took Harry and hugged him. They didn’t speak, but Arthur put his hands on Harry’s shoulders and nodded with a smile.

Everyone came to visit while the interior of the marquee was being switched. The most surprising visitors were Teddy and Victoire in the arms of Andromeda and Fleur.

“We wanted them to greet you too,” said Andromeda. Teddy’s face lit up when he saw Harry and he reached for him as his hair turned green. Harry took him with a poke to the belly, and Teddy squealed with laughter. He yanked Harry’s eyeglasses off and put them in his mouth.

“Teddy, no,” said Andromeda, handing them back to Harry.

“Were they in the marquee during the ceremony?” Ginny asked as she took Victoire from Fleur.

“No, we didn’t want them to disturb it,” said Andromeda. “Your elves watched them.”

“The elves?” said Harry in surprise, wiping saliva from his glasses. “Do elves know about babies?”

“Didn’t you know zat?” said Fleur. “Zey are excellent wiz children because zey are small like zem. I t’ink you will find zem very useful when you ‘ave your own.”

Ginny took Harry’s arm. “I’m liking this marriage more and more.”

People crowded around, everyone wanted to congratulate the couple. Saliyah and Kingsley came, and Harry noticed a short wizard standing behind the Minister; he seemed shy about showing himself.

“Dung!” Harry exclaimed when the Minister and Head Auror left and he finally could see who it was. “It’s good to see you.”

“I’m so glad you’re here,” said Ginny as she extended her hand. Mundungus hesitantly shook it, and glanced around as though he had been caught taking a bottle from one of the babies.

“I just wanted to wish you very ‘appy,” he said, and smiled bashfully. “An’ I do appreciate that you invited me, Mrs. Potter. This is a very nice party.”

Ginny gave him her sweetest smile. “Have a good time, and be sure to have a piece of the cake.”

He grinned at Ginny, bobbed his head at Harry, and disappeared into the crowd.

“We’d better count the silver right away,” said Ron. “And the furniture too.”

“He’ll be fine,” Ginny said. “He fancies me.”

Harry grinned at Ron. “He was on a case with us last winter. He tracked down that shipment of Darkness Powder, but he nicked some of it and I got him to tell me about it because he likes Ginny.”

Ron’s eyebrows shot up. “My baby sister helped solve a crime? Tell me, Gin, what _don’t_ you do?”

“I’m very versatile.”

“I’ll second that,” said Harry, looking at her hungrily.

“Am I allowed to smack him if we’re married?” Ginny asked Hermione.

“Yes,” she declared. “I distinctly heard Kingsley say you can.”

“I’ll let you off this time, Potter,” Ginny said to Harry, “but from now on you’d better be careful.”

Harry grabbed her and kissed her, which became a snog, but Ron tapped Harry’s shoulder. “Here comes brother Percy. I think the tables are ready.”

“You mean you think the food is ready,” said Hermione, taking Ron’s arm.

‘I’m trying not to be rude. Why do people always assume I’m thinking about food?”

At that moment Percy walked up. “The tables are ready,” he said to Ginny. “The food is ready,” he said to Ron.

They walked to the marquee, greeting people along the way. Harry pointed, and he and Ginny turned towards the woods. Hagrid was there with Olympe Maxime, and sitting under a tree just past the gate was Grawp. Hagrid’s smile was wider than the whole yard, but tears were also pouring into his beard.

“Harry,” he blubbered, “an’ Ginny! What a day it is! I was there the day after yeh was born, at yer folks’ house, and now here I am at yer weddin’.”

He bent down and put his arms around them—carefully, for Hagrid—and completely soaked Ginny’s gown and Harry’s tuxedo with his tears.

“Hagrid!” Madame Maxime scolded. “What are you doing to Ginny’s gown?” She pulled him back and took out her wand; in a moment their clothes were restored.

Hagrid wiped his face with his handkerchief. “Sorry about that. It just kinda overwhelms me, yer bein’ all grown up an’ married. And pretty soon you’ll have yer own kids an’ they’ll be comin’ to Hogwarts an’ I’ll be teachin’ ‘em just like I taught the two of you.”

Ginny blushed and Harry smiled. “In a couple of years. Ginny’s got a few league cups to win first.”

Hagrid nodded. “I know, I know. Ye’ll do it at yer own pace.” He glanced at Grawp. “Would yeh mind comin’ over an’ sayin’ hello to Grawpie? He can’t get under the marquee, so he didn’t get to see the weddin’.”

They went to the giant. Grawp reached down and Ginny stepped into his gargantuan hand. He lifted her up and smiled at her. She took off her tiara and let him touch it, and she lifted her veela necklace for him to see. He had a tear in his eye when he lowered her gently to the ground. “Gin,” he said. “Pretty Gin.”

Ginny leaned over and kissed his fingertip; Grawp put the finger to his mouth and smiled.

Madame Maxime laughed. “I think he is blushing. Hagrid, I have never seen your brother blush.”

Grawp waved his hand and turned his head. Ginny patted the giant’s foot. “Goodbye, Grawp,” she called up to him. “Thank you, and thank you for coming to our wedding.”

They went into the marquee. The floor was now flat, and several dozen round tables were set up, covered with white linen; on each table was a candelabra and floral arrangement. They went to the head table where Hermione and an impatient-looking Ron sat on either side of the two center seats; the rest of the Weasley family and their partners were also sitting. As people noticed Ginny and Harry, applause built until the marquee was filled with the sound; Harry waved and Ginny blew kisses. They took their seats, and a glass of bubbly liquid appeared in front of each person: champagne for the adults, sparkling water for the children.

Ron stood and raised his glass in the sudden silence; he looked down at Harry who gazed back, blinking through his eyeglasses, and began the toasts.

“Harry, my best mate, my brother, I can’t believe all the things you and I have gone through to get to this place and time. You saved my life at least once, but then a lot of people can say that, or at least they should. Now don’t blush, I know you don’t like to hear things like that, but this is _my_ toast and I can say whatever the hell I want.” He went on, ignoring his mother’s scowl. “I told you a few months ago after you proposed to Ginny that you were now my brother, but actually I think you’ve been my brother ever since the day I first saw your skinny, lost face on the Hogwarts Express eight years ago. Since then a few odd things have happened to us now and then, here and there—” Harry smiled and some chuckles came from people sitting at the tables “—but as you so memorably said at Hogwarts a couple of months ago, here we are.”

He turned to Ginny. “Ginny, my baby sister, I know how much you hate that. But until about a year ago, that’s what you were to me. Maybe I was misguided, but all I wanted to do was protect you. Then this git came along, and all of a sudden there was someone else who was protecting you. I had a hard time accepting that, and it took me longer than it should have. But I think I’ve known for a long time, deep down inside, starting from that summer when you were still a brat and all you talked about was Harry, Harry, Harry, that we would all end up here, and I would be making a toast to the two of you.

“So . . .” He gestured with his glass to Ginny and Harry. “So, I offer a toast to the health and endless happiness of the couple who were truly meant for each other, Harry and Ginny Potter.”

A loud, “Hear, hear!” from scores of voices sounded, followed by a moment of silence as glasses were emptied.

The wedding feast began, and course after delectable course magically appeared on the tables. Winky and Kreacher served the head table, standing on low benches that popped up whenever one of the elves needed one. Hermione wasn’t happy to see the elves working, but when she asked Winky why she didn’t sit down and enjoy the wedding, the elf drew herself up and glared.

“House-elves is enjoying theirselfs, Miss Spew,” she said haughtily; Hermione blushed and put her face down as Ron chortled. Ginny patted Hermione’s hand.

Winky scowled at Ron. “What is you laughing at?”

“Nothing,” Ron said quickly. “As long as you’re having a good time, it’s okay with me.”

Winky turned back to Hermione. “If Hermione Granger is marrying that one, she should learn him not to be rude.”

Hermione, recovering, gazed archly at Ron. “Thank you, Winky. I’ll be sure to do that, _if_ I marry him.”

Both Harry and Ginny were laughing, and he leaned towards Ron. “Flowers, mate, flowers and maybe you should write a poem too, and you might not have to sleep on that new couch of yours for more than a week.”

Ron sighed. “Lesson learned. Again.”

The orchestra played at the other end of the marquee. Soon Harry and Ginny left the head table and began walking around, stopping at each table to chat. After about an hour, when the meal was winding down and Winky was magically moving the table with the cake to the front of the head table, a bell rang and everyone turned. George Weasley rose holding his wand. He flicked it, the bell sounded again, and there was silence.

“My friends,” he said loudly, his voice carrying to the far side of the marquee, “before we devour this beautiful pastry, we’d like Ginny and Harry to come back from their wandering amongst you for something special.”

They were at one of the Dumbledore’s Army tables, talking to Ginger and Dean who were sitting together. They looked at each other, and Ginny shrugged; they walked back to the head table holding hands.

George grinned at them. “Ginny and Harry, your family have a gift for you that’s going to let you enjoy something together that we know you both love to do, and no, Harry, it’s not that.”

There was laughter as Harry put his hand over his face. Ginny put her head on his arm; she knew her face was crimson. George continued to grin.

“Gin, you are about to embark on a career as a professional Quidditch player for the Holyhead Harpies—” there were cheers and a few whistles “—and as you know, professional Quidditch players usually have a backup broomstick. Here is yours.”

He waved his wand dramatically and, with a bang that was much louder than it had to be, two long, graceful brooms appeared, floating in the air in front of Ginny and Harry.

They both gaped. These brooms were longer than Ginny’s Firebolt, and even sleeker; the wooden shaft of each was highly polished, and seemed to glow from within.

George put away his wand, took a broom in each hand and held them out. “You are looking at the successor to the Firebolt, the Ion One. These are the first two ever to be sold in Britain. Ginny and Harry, happy flying from the family that loves you both as much as you love each other.”

They took their new brooms and looked at each other. Ginny’s mouth hung open; she glanced back and saw Ginger grinning at her and holding her thumb up.

She turned back to George. “I heard there was a new broom out. Where did you get them?”

“We have vast contacts in the wizarding world, Sis, me, your brother Bill, and your brother Charlie. Nothing is too good for you, so we got the best.”

She wrapped her arms around him as the marquee rang with cheers and the orchestra played the Harpies fight song. Harry hugged George, and Ginny went around the head table and hugged Bill and Charlie and everyone else. She came back to Harry wiping tears from her eyes. “Can we take them on the honeymoon?”

“I don’t see why not. Ron can ship them tomorrow.” He ran his hand over the smooth length of the shaft. “Look, the twigs aren’t stiff. I’ll bet that makes them more maneuverable.” He and Ginny stood there admiring their new brooms until he felt someone tug on his pants leg and looked down; Winky was there with a cake cutter in her hand.

They put the brooms down on the head table and, amidst great enthusiasm from all, the cake was soon cut and passed out, except for the top tier which would be saved for the birth of their first child. Then the tables were moved aside and Harry led Ginny out onto the floor. He took her in his arms and the orchestra struck up the first waltz.

They had practiced every day, and they dazzled everyone as they spun around the floor. It was like magic, induced by the music and the rhythm; all they were aware of was each other’s eyes and arms, and the movement of their bodies. It made Harry feel strong and confident as he guided Ginny with pressure from his hand on her back. It made Ginny feel joyful and loved as she followed Harry’s lead.

When the dance ended, to more applause, Bill and Fleur came over and there were more hugs and kisses.

“Zat was like a consummation,” Fleur said as she held both of their hands. “I ‘ave never seen two lovers waltz so beautifully. Ginny, you must allow me to ‘ave ze next dance wiz your ‘usband.”

Ginny was blushing again, but so was Harry, as much at being asked to dance by Fleur as by what she had said. The orchestra played, and Harry took Fleur out on the floor while Ginny and Bill danced. The space filled with couples; Ginny noticed Dean and Ginger struggling to keep up with the music. Arthur and Molly were dancing, as were Ron and Hermione, Kingsley and Saliyah, Neville and Keesha, George and Angelina, even Percy with Audrey.

The orchestra played for an hour, followed by a break while the Huffle Badgers set up. A few moments after they started playing, there was an exodus from the marquee of most of the older people, but the floor was still crowded with Hogwarts students, including all of Dumbledore’s Army.

During a band break Ginny found herself at a table with Luna. Her friend was looking dreamily up at the roof where the owlets were fluttering among the vines and flowers. “Owls are marvelous,” Luna said. “I wonder how they understand everything we say to them.”

“It is amazing,” said Ginny, shifting in her seat so that her gown was not being crushed. “I’m surprised they never taught us much about them at school.”

Luna gazed at her. “Hagrid likes large dangerous creatures and small dangerous creatures. Except for unicorns.” She blinked and thought for a few moments. “I’ll go find out.”

“Find out what? About owls? Right now?” Ginny knew Luna well enough not to be surprised, although she didn’t quite expect her to get up and walk out right then.

“No, I don’t think now. I’m having too much fun.”

Ginny went with the flow. “I’m glad. I noticed you dancing with a bunch of different guys.”

“Yes. At your birthday party I spent most of my time with Dean. He’s very nice, but I think he was starting to think that I fancied him. I’m glad that girl from London is here so he’s not mooning over me.”

“Ah, yes, it’s lucky for him. So what are you going to do now? I mean now that we’ve left Hogwarts.”

Luna smiled again. “Travel with my daddy. We’ll go to places that have interesting owleries, and maybe I’ll learn the answer to my question.”

“About owls, you mean?”

Luna nodded and looked dreamily up at the owlets again.

The band started playing and Ginny took Luna’s hand and dragged her to the dance floor. Soon the marquee was rocking and the owlets flew out; they perched in the tree above Grawp and ducked their heads under their wings.

After another hour the bands switched and the adults drifted back into the marquee, while most of the young folks went outside. Ginny and Harry spent some time at Fred’s grave with the family, but Ginny wanted to dance with Harry again, so they went back. She asked for slow dances, but after three they had to stop because Harry was becoming overly amorous out on the dance floor.

At eight o’clock, supper was served, and the two bands played their final sets, first the Huffle Badgers and then the orchestra. Ginny could tell that Harry was getting restless to be leaving, and, when she stopped to think about it, so was she. She had had a brilliant, deliriously happy day, and now it was time for it to come to an end. She told her parents that she and Harry would be leaving soon, and she went to the orchestra and asked for a last dance. The wizard conductor bowed, and the strains of an old Muggle waltz, composed long ago about a majestic river, filled the magical marquee.


	54. Honeymoon

Harry swept his bride around the dance floor one last time, and when the music ended they stepped off arm in arm to another ovation. They made their goodbyes: Ginny kissed the twins; said a tearful goodbye to her mother and father; received a blessing from Aunt Muriel who, with a wink, wished her a first-rate honeymoon; hugged all of her friends crowding around; and took her bouquet from Hermione with another hug and kiss. She kissed all of her brothers, their girlfriends, and Fleur, said goodbye to Ginger and Dean, and finally she and Harry walked out of the marquee to a spot under the peach tree.

“Are you ready?” Harry grinned. Ginny nodded, her eyes ablaze.

“What about the luggage?” she suddenly said. “Who will bring it?”

“It’s already there.” Harry patted her hand resting on his arm. “Don’t worry, everything’s taken care of. Just bring your flowers.”

Ginny was tingling all over. Harry had guarded this secret well and for a long time; her anticipation had been growing for weeks. He had promised that she would love their honeymoon spot as much as she loved the inn, and when she remembered how overwhelmed she had been at her first glimpse of it the day after her seventeenth birthday, it was all she could now do to contain herself.

Most of the guests had gathered around. Ron and Hermione came forward, and Ron embraced Harry. “See you soon, mate. Have a great two weeks. I’ll send the brooms tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” Harry said as he and Ron held each other. “Thanks for everything.”

Hermione hugged and kissed Ginny and Harry. “Don’t worry about anything. Just have a wonderful time.”

They stepped away and Ginny took a firm grip on Harry’s elbow. She gathered her gown up and grinned at him. “I’m ready, love. Show me your stuff.”

“I plan to.” He waved at the crowd, which broke into cheers again. “Here we go.”

They felt the crushing weight that pushed the breath out of their chests, but it quickly stopped and cool salty air filled their lungs. They were standing on a cliff overlooking the sea. The sky above was clear and filled with thousands of stars. Without turning around, but recognizing where they were, Ginny’s face slowly broke into a wide smile.

She turned and saw the small cottage behind them, the pink shells embedded in the walls just visible in dim candlelight glowing through the windows; the smell of fresh bread wafted out an open kitchen window. Above it a crescent moon descended towards the western horizon.

“Oh, Harry! Oh my love!” Tears glistened in her eyes as she took his hand. “How could it be better than this?” She looked at Shell Cottage and leaned back against him; they both gazed at the little house.

Ginny looked over her shoulder. “So this is why Bill is going to Egypt and Fleur to visit her mum? You planned the whole thing!”

“Not really.” He put his arms around her and pulled her against him. “I asked if there was any way we could honeymoon here, and Bill mentioned his trip. He did arrange it so that they’d be away for the next two weeks.”

“So we’ll be all alone?”

“Yes.” Harry cupped her gown over her breast with his hand. “We can run around naked all day. And all night too.”

“Harry!” She smiled at him. “But who’s going to cook? You don’t expect me to!”

“Winky will come in the mornings and fix all the meals for the day. It smells like she’s already been here. We can Summon her whenever we need her, and she and Kreacher will come and do the housework. It was their idea,” he added when Ginny looked at him with her eyebrows raised. “Winky said it was her wedding present, besides the cake.”

“What about Kreacher? Did he want to do it too? I don’t want either one of them here if it’s a chore.”

“Well, the place is small enough for Winky to handle by herself, but when I told him that, he actually got upset. He started grumbling about being useless and it was time for his head to be mounted on the wall and stuff like that. So I told him to come whenever Winky did. He seemed happy enough.”

Ginny turned back to the sea, and when Harry started to move his hand from her breast she put hers on top of it and held it there. “That feels good.” She closed her eyes, lifted her face to the sky, and drew in a deep breath of sea air. “Can you keep it there for two weeks?”

Harry nuzzled her neck. “I’ll do my best, starting now.”

Before she could say another word, he picked her up in his arms and carried her to the cottage. The door opened before them and he carried her across the threshold.

A fire was crackling merrily in the fireplace. Harry set Ginny down and took her bouquet of red roses and put it in a golden vase standing ready on the mantel. He went to her and they kissed. “Mrs. Potter,” he whispered. “Welcome to your honeymoon.” And then a month’s worth of abstinence and anticipation suddenly made themselves felt.

He undid the lacing at the back of her gown, and as it fell aside he pushed down the front until her brassiere was exposed. His hands were trembling, but he got it unhooked and threw it onto a chair. He leaned down and kissed one breast while he fondled the other, rubbing his thumb over her nipple until it was stiff. Ginny put her hands on his head and clutched his hair, pushing his face against her chest. Harry’s tongue traveled from nipple to nipple, while his hands kept shoving down her gown. He fell to his knees and pushed the gown to the floor; Ginny stepped out and out of her shoes. He carefully picked up the gown and draped it over a chair.

He turned and, as they looked ravenously at each other, he took off his jacket, his shirt, his shoes, his trousers.

Harry walked towards Ginny; in the light of the fire her hair glowed an even deeper red. She held her hands out and the rubies on her ring flashed. Their hands clasped and they crushed themselves against each other. Harry closed his eyes when he felt her breasts against his chest; he pushed his thigh between her legs and she sucked in a sudden breath.

His hands went inside her knickers and around to her cheeks. He ran his hands over the round softness, then moved to the front and let his thumbs explore. She began to moan; her own hands went inside his briefs and with one she caressed gently while with the other she ran her fingernails up and down his backside. She slowly shoved his shorts until they were around his thighs.

Harry put his mouth on hers and kissed her deeply while one hand returned to the deep space between her fleshy cheeks. She squealed, then thrust her hips at him. Harry shoved her knickers down her legs; she kicked them off, and he lifted her up and entered her as she wrapped her legs around him. They both started crying out, not caring that the front door was wide open and the curtains on the windows were drawn back. Finally they exploded at the same time, shouting in their ecstasy. Gradually their movements and their breathing slowed, and they sank to the floor in each other’s arms.

“Ouch,” said Ginny. “It’s hard.”

“Still?”

“The floor,” she giggled.

Harry reached to where his wand had fallen, and a deep-pile rug appeared underneath them. He slowly disengaged from Ginny, removed his shorts from their half-staff position, got up, shut the door, and pulled all the curtains closed.

“Bill cast a Fidelius for the two weeks,” he said as he rejoined Ginny on the rug. She snuggled up close and he put his arm under her head; with his other he drew little circles around her nipples. “Only Ron and Hermione know the Secret.”

“So we’re completely alone for two weeks,” Ginny mused. “I’m going to jump your bones every day, you know. This was a good start, but now that we’re married, I’m holding you to a higher standard.”

“I’ve always risen to a challenge”

“You’ll get plenty of chances to rise, my love.”

Harry chuckled, and they lay quietly for a few minutes. “We’re married,” he said.

“Yes, I like it.”

“Then I won’t stop.”

“Silly. You know what I mean.”

Harry leaned over and kissed her. “I planned some trips while we’re here. On Monday we’ll go to Hogwarts to see Professor Dumbledore, on Friday we’ll meet Ron and Hermione and spend the day in town, and on Sunday Sagittaria’s mother invited us to have tea at that inn she told me about.”

“And in between it’ll just be you and me.”

They listened to the snapping and hissing of the fire. Ginny raised her head and sniffed the air. “What’s that smell of bread? Did Winky come here during the wedding? I hope she left.”

“She wasn’t supposed to come until tomorrow.” Harry got to his feet and walked towards the kitchen, allowing Ginny to admire his slim, lanky form from the rear. He opened the kitchen door and peeked in. “No one,” he called. “But she baked a fresh loaf. There’s also a tub of butter and a pot of honey. Want some?”

“Later. I’m still full from cake. Come here.” She beckoned with a finger. Harry walked back, allowing Ginny to admire his slim, lanky form from the front. He started to sink onto the rug, but she stopped him with a hand on his abdomen. “I want you to carry me upstairs.”

“No butter and honey tonight?”

“Not that kind.”

Her eyes blazed. He reached under her back and her knees and lifted her up. The narrow stairs were a bit tricky, but he made it without bumping Ginny against the wall, only his own bum and elbows. The door to the room they had always stayed in was open and a single candle burned in a silvery-white candlestick; the window was open, and a cool, pleasant breeze billowed the curtains. The covers on the bed were pulled back and Harry gently laid his bride on the fresh sheets. He bent over her, kissing her lips, his hand moving down her body, massaging her breasts, running down her belly and her hip, then up inside her thigh. He lingered there while their tongues circled together inside their mouths. Ginny’s hand reached and she started running her finger across his most sensitive skin.

Harry gave a moan and then he was inside her. This time he was much slower, and Ginny’s rapture went on and on before Harry finally joined her. And as their bodies joined, they were also inside each other’s mind, completely knowing each other’s need and pleasure.

Harry lay on top of her afterwards; Ginny’s arms around his back held him, not letting him leave her. They fell asleep without moving. Harry reached down once to pull a sheet up as the breeze from the window became chillier, but Ginny murmured in her sleep and held him tighter. Early in the morning she awoke briefly and slid out from under him, grabbing a robe hanging on a hook next to the door and hurrying out to the loo; when she returned and slipped under the sheet again, she pulled Harry back on top.

“Keep me warm,” she whispered in the dark, and put her arms around him again. Their skin touched from shoulders to toes; Harry kissed her and felt himself melting into his wife.

# # # #

The sun rose on the first day of their married lives. When they awoke and got out of bed they began a routine that they followed for the next two weeks. Harry went downstairs and found Winky and Kreacher in the kitchen preparing breakfast. The elves bowed and Harry greeted them, happy to see them. He took two breakfasts back on a tray. Ginny was propped up in bed and he sat next to her while they ate cut up fruit, eggs, bacon, sausage, and slices of the bread Winky had left for them last night.

On alternating days Ginny got breakfast for Harry. After eating, they cleaned up and went downstairs together. On the first day, Ginny noticed that her gown, bra, shoes, and Harry’s tuxedo were gone. She asked Kreacher, who bowed low, his bat-ears almost touching the floor. He told her that they had all been returned to the Burrow for cleaning and storing. “Kreacher hopes that meets with Mistress Ginny Potter’s approval,” he croaked.

Ginny stared at him, suddenly realizing that she now had two house elves. She walked into the kitchen, where Harry was sitting at the table slurping a mug of coffee. Winky was putting food away in a larder.

“Good morning, Winky,” she said. “Thanks for breakfast. Kreacher said my gown was back at the Burrow. How did you get it there?”

“Ginny Potter should not worry about such things,” said the elf, “especially on her honeymoon. She should trust Winky and Kreacher, who has both served wizarding families with honor and skill. Her wedding gown is safe and sound.” She eyed Ginny for a moment. “Much safer than where Winky found it this morning.”

“Okay. Well, thanks for taking care of it.” She sat across from Harry, who was leering at her. “So what’s up for today? Wait!” she said before he could answer. She glanced at Winky, who was clattering plates in a cabinet. “I mean, why don’t we take a walk to that little village up the coast?”

“Sure,” said Harry. “But I want to wait for the brooms. Ron said he’d send them today.”

“Okay. Then let’s just be lazy. That suits me too.”

Winky finished her clattering and showed them where she had stored the day’s meals. Kreacher came back into the kitchen after a few minutes, and the elves disappeared with two loud pops.

The newlyweds were again alone in the cottage. “Let’s go visit Dobby,” Harry said.

They went out back and stood next to the grave; it was well-tended, and a bed of flowers had been planted around it by Bill and Fleur. They stood by it with the morning breeze whipping Ginny’s hair around her face, until they heard pops from the cottage.

“The brooms,” Harry said. He grabbed her hand and they ran inside. The two Ions were leaning against the wall just inside the door. Harry picked his up and ran his hand over the handle, then down the shaft and around the twigs. He held it up, balancing it on one finger, then mounted it and bent low, as though he was flying across the sky.

“I think I have competition,” Ginny giggled. “You look like you’re making love to it.”

Harry shook his head. “I have one lover for life, but it’s been a long time between flights, you know.” He grinned. “Let’s take them up.”

“Harry, someone will see us. Shouldn’t we wait until tonight?”

“I have an idea.” He dashed upstairs and came down with two pairs of his briefs. “We’ll attach these to the brooms, and then we’ll Disillusion ourselves, that way we’ll know where the other one is.”

Ginny burst into laughter. “We’ll fly across the English Channel waving the flag of wizarding Britain, Harry Potter’s knickers!”

He grinned. “Come on, it’ll work.”

They went outside and Harry applied a Sticking charm to the tip of each broom and attached a pair of his shorts. They cast the Disillusioning charms, and Harry kicked off; Ginny watched for a moment as white underwear soared into the sky. She followed, and quickly saw that Harry’s idea was a good one. They flew out over the water and could look back at the cottage on the cliff and waves breaking in white lines on the yellow beach. The water below was indigo, the sky above azure, and the beautiful world was bathed in sunshine.

She flew towards his shorts. “I want to hold your hand,” she called. “Stick it out!”

Harry’s flag moved closer, and his hand found hers. They gripped tightly, their brooms side by side. “I want to see how fast this can go,” he said. “Wait here.”

He let her hand go, and she saw a white streak descend, then rise straight up. It headed east over the water, then curved back. She hovered as it rose from underneath, and then Harry was holding her hand again.

“It’s brilliant!” he cried. “It’s so much smoother than my old Firebolt. You have to hang on, it accelerates so fast.”

“Let me give it a go.”

Harry was right; the first time she bent low, the broom almost shot out from under her. She tried loops, zigzags, climbs, drops, and flat-out, straight-line bursts of speed. She had never felt anything like it.

Exhilarated, she flew back to Harry’s shorts, found his hand and squeezed it. They descended and landed, removed the charms, and Harry kissed her. “I could spend the rest of my life flying with you, especially on these. I’m already in love with being married.”

“Mmm.” Ginny put her head on his chest. “The beginning has been everything I dreamed of.”

Harry took her left hand and held their wedding bands together; gold flashed in the sunlight. “Let’s take that walk now.”

They put the brooms back in the cottage and spent the rest of the morning and part of the afternoon on a leisurely stroll along the beach, visiting the fishing village, poking into shops, renewing acquaintances with the Muggle shopkeepers. When the proprietor of the grocery store realized that they were married, he gave them a heart-shaped box of chocolates. They walked back to the cottage just as leisurely, then got a blanket and lay on the beach under the cliff until dusk fell.

They ate the dinner that Winky had prepared, and when it was almost dark out, they took their brooms up again, this time without Disillusioning themselves. They raced low over the water along the beach, past the fishing village until they saw the lights of a larger town ahead. They turned back and arrived at the cottage as the moon, now a slightly larger crescent, hung in the west.

Harry lit a fire in the parlor and conjured another rug. They lay on it facing the fireplace on their stomachs, talking about nothing and everything, until Harry’s hand moved down Ginny’s back onto her pretty bum, which was inside a pair of tight jeans. He pulled her shirt out of her waistband and started rubbing her back. She sighed, and his hand went down inside both jeans and knickers, and began massaging, pinching, exploring her wonderful places.

Ginny rolled over and unzipped her pants. Harry’s hand remained inside her underwear and did in the front what it had already done in the back. Ginny raised her knees up, allowing greater and easier access. Harry took his time, and even after Ginny was groaning and trying to pull him on top, he kept on caressing. His mouth was everywhere and she grabbed his hair.

“What are you doing to me?” she whimpered. “Please!”

“What’s the rush? We have two weeks,” he whispered in her ear.

“Unh,” was all she could say.

Ten minutes later Ginny was moaning and heaving on the rug. “Mercy!” she cried. Finally, he doffed his own clothes, pulled off hers, and they finished with Ginny’s bare back on the voluptuous, soft pile of the rug.

Harry conjured a blanket and pillows, and they fell asleep as the fires gradually cooled.

# # # #

Ginny awoke in the morning when she heard a loud pop. She looked around the parlor for a moment before diving back under the blanket and pulling it over her head.

“Harry.” She poked him. “Harry! Wake up! Winky is here. Get my clothes.”

“Huh?” Harry looked around sleepily. The kitchen door was closed but someone was banging around inside. He looked at Ginny and saw only a lump under the blanket. He lifted it up; she was curled in a ball, her arms over her breasts.

“Good morning,” he grinned. “It looks like a nice day outside.”

“Hey!” She yanked the blanket back over her head. “Gimme my clothes, now!”

Harry chuckled and took her underwear from a pile next to him on the floor. He shoved the articles under the blanket.

“Not these! My pants and shirt!” An arm emerged. Harry retrieved her jeans and tee shirt, handed her the shirt first, followed by the pants, and Ginny finally surfaced, pulling her hair back. She jumped up and ran up the stairs.

Harry pulled on his jeans, made the rug and blanket disappear, and went into the kitchen. Winky was preparing breakfast and glanced at him.

“Is Harry and Ginny Potter having a restful night?”

“Um, yeah.” He went back into the sitting room, scooped up the remaining clothes and joined Ginny in the bedroom.

“No more nights on the rug,” she said with her back to him; she was in front of the mirror fixing her hair.

“Yeah, sorry.” Harry stood behind her and watched her in the mirror. Their eyes met and they stared for a moment, then they both laughed.

Ginny sat on the bed and held her hand out for Harry’s. “Poor Winky. Was she okay?”

“I’m not sure. She asked if our night was restful.”

“Did you tell her it was? I wonder if she ever busted in on the Crouches.”

“Well, I promise not to take off your clothes downstairs again.”

Ginny giggled. “I don’t mind that. Just don’t finish me off down there, ‘cause once that happens I don’t feel like moving.”

Harry kissed her. ‘I promise. Come on, let’s get breakfast.”

Winky said no more, and left soon after they were done eating. They went out back to Dobby’s grave and picked fresh flowers to put on it, then spent the rest of the morning on the beach. After lunch they prepared for their first trip away from Shell Cottage to see Professor Dumbledore.

Harry had set up a Portkey with the Ministry, including the return trip for which he brought along a rusty garden implement he had found outside the cottage. At one o’clock they appeared in the Headmistress’s office at Hogwarts. It was empty except for the usual cats asleep on various chairs and tables. Albus Dumbledore was in his portrait, sitting in his throne-like chair, his eyes twinkling, his hands folded in his lap. Harry and Ginny sat in comfortable chairs the Headmistress had left for them in front of her desk, and Dumbledore smiled at them.

“Thank you so much for coming to see me. Minerva has kindly agreed to be elsewhere for a few hours. I so dearly wanted to be at your wedding, but . . .” He sighed and spread his hands. “I do have my limitations. But that doesn’t matter. I really just wanted to have the chance to see you, to talk, and to congratulate you. How is married life suiting you?”

“It’s grand,” they both said together, and laughed.

Dumbledore chuckled. “I’m sure others have said this, but you two seem to be an especially well-suited couple. I didn’t have as much contact over the years with you, Ginny, as I did with Harry, but there were times when I was paying close attention, particularly after what happened in your first year. I have always admired the way you rallied after that; I cannot imagine how painful that year was for you.”

“It’s in the past, Professor,” Ginny said. “And I had lots of help. My whole family was there for me.”

“Professor,” Harry spoke, “there’s something we wanted to ask you, something sort of related to that in a vague way.”

Dumbledore’s eyebrows rose, and he leaned forward; his expression became more and more interested as Harry told him about the feelings and sensations he and Ginny had been experiencing for a year: their connection. The Professor sat back at the end, gazing at them.

“I believe Miss Granger is absolutely correct,” he said after a few moments of thought. “In each one of you there is a tiny but potent part of the other. I would call it your souls, but it’s remarkable, whatever you want to call it. You say that Miss Delacour has heard of it, but I can tell you that it’s brand new to me. It must be something out of veela lore. Amazing.”

“So you’re not really sure, either?” said Ginny.

“No. But if Dark Magic could create a Horcrux, then why should something as blessed as this not be possible?”

“Blessed? What do you mean?”

“Miss Weasley . . . I mean Mrs. Potter . . . Ginny, as impossible as it may seem, I too was once your age. You must have read Miss Skeeter’s opus in which she described some of the things I did when I was seventeen. And I’m sure that Harry has told you more that was, hopefully, closer to the truth. Now, when we are seventeen, one of the things we are convinced of is our own immortality. I will not deny that believing myself to be immortal was part of what made me so enthusiastic for questionable ideals.” He smiled and spread his hands. “Obviously I was mistaken about my immortality. And you and Harry will discover on a far-off day that you are not going to live forever. But . . .”

He paused and looked at their somewhat shocked expressions. “But you, unlike anyone else I have ever known, you will not be alone at that instant when mortality engulfs you. And if I may pass on one piece of unasked for and maybe pretentious wisdom, to be alone is worse than to be dead. Every human being has been alone or will be alone at some time, at least at the moment of their death. But . . . I don’t know—I cannot imagine—what it must be like for the both of you, to be not alone. I ask you—no, I beg of you, treasure it! Rejoice in it! Wallow in it! Let it take you over! It’s a blessing that maybe no Muggle has ever known and probably precious few magical people.”

He chuckled. “Don’t let the Department of Mysteries find out. They’ve been studying love and death for centuries and they don’t know much more about either one than when they started. If they hear of this connection that you have, they’ll never leave you alone. They’ll want to poke and prod and try to get inside your minds.”

He frowned at Harry. “You never did learn Occlumency, did you? What about you?” he pointed his finger at Ginny.

She shook her head, and started to speak, but suddenly Dumbledore laughed and held up his hand to stop her. “Ignore me. Asking Harry to learn it from poor Severus was one of the worst decisions I ever made. That shows you how much my advice is worth. So come now! Tell me about your wedding.”

Ginny started to give a sketchy description of the ceremony, but the Professor wanted to know everything in great detail: the proposal, the ring, the planning, the preparations, the living marquee, the ceremony, their vows, the cake, the music, the dancing. It took more than an hour, and at the end he leaned back in his chair and sighed; his eyes seemed shinier than before.

“I am so glad for you,” he said, beaming broadly. “No two people deserve happiness more than you. And I trust you are also enjoying your honeymoon?”

Harry grinned and looked at Ginny; they both nodded.

“Splendid! Well, I suppose, based on that wordless response, that you would like to get back.”

“Can you get someone to tell the Ministry we’re ready?” Harry asked. “They’re supposed to be standing by with a Portkey.”

“Of course, one moment.” The Headmaster stepped out of his frame but was back in a minute. “It’s all arranged. Just use the item you brought with you; it will be scheduled in exactly thirty seconds.”

Harry took the old garden trowel from his pocket and placed it on the desk. “Goodbye, Professor, and thanks for everything.”

Dumbledore waved; his wistful eyes were the last thing Harry and Ginny saw before they were standing outside the front door of Shell Cottage.

# # # #

Every morning they went out back to Dobby’s grave and placed fresh flowers on it. Their daylight hours were filled with sunbathing and walks on the beach, excursions to the fishing village, flights over the water on their brooms, Winky’s superb meals, and occasional love-making. Evenings saw them down on the beach sitting next to a small fire dug into a pit in the sand, or flying un-Disillusioned in the twilight. Once they flew several miles out to sea and saw ships plying the Channel below. They looked back and saw a string of lights along the shore, distant houses and villages like a string of white pearls against a purple horizon.

Every night they made love. Sometimes their connection grew so strong and their intimacy so intense that they completely lost all sense of time and place. When they emerged from each other—physically and mentally—they had to lie still for several minutes to find their bearings in the world.

At the same time, their awareness of the other person was growing more detailed, even when they weren’t together. There were moments when this became a little awkward.

“Harry,” Ginny said one evening as he came downstairs into the sitting room; she was draped sideways a chair reading _Quidditch World_. “Do I really have to know what you’re doing in the loo?”

“Huh?” Harry stopped on the last step. “Did I . . .?” He turned slightly red.

“Maybe we can agree to leave out some things. It’s okay if you’re brushing your teeth, but . . .”

Harry grinned. “I guess I didn’t even know I was connecting.”

“You definitely were.”

And it was just as Bill had said to Harry: as soon as they knew what it was, they began to control it. But this caused some other problems. Several times, when one of them had “dropped” the connection, the other wanted to know if anything was wrong. At first neither would admit that they just wanted some privacy, but when Ginny was writing a letter to her mother—which Winky was going to deliver—and Harry wanted to know why she had disconnected, they had their first tiff as a married couple. They quickly made up, and the ensuing makeup sex was unbelievable, even by the standards they had already come to enjoy.

After a few such incidents, they both realized that no matter how intimate they were, no matter how deeply into each other’s feelings and thoughts they penetrated, no matter how much joy and pleasure it brought, they had to have some privacy. They came up with signals, little warning flags they could raise whenever they needed to be alone, so that the other would know not to intrude for a few minutes. And since they were so aware of each other’s emotional state, including feeling excluded, the moments of being disconnected were always followed by moments of being quite intensely reconnected.

So the first week of their honeymoon passed, and on Friday morning they Apparated to Diagon Alley and spent the day with Ron and Hermione. It was fun, but they decided not to go out with them after dinner because they wanted to get back to Shell Cottage and be alone. On Sunday they met Sagittaria’s mother for tea in a small wizarding inn on the outskirts of London. She told them that her sons, the killers of Fenrir Greyback, had already had a quiet trial, had pleaded guilty, and were serving indefinite sentences in the Ministry; they could be released in as little as three years. This was news that Harry and Ginny were glad to hear. They had an enjoyable afternoon for two hours with the gentle Mrs. Wilson, but were glad to get back and, once again, be alone.

During the second week of their honeymoon, they didn’t leave the vicinity of the cottage except for trips along the beach. As their connection grew, they could not seem to get enough of each other’s presence, even when they were not making love.

They also liked to play. Ginny would bury Harry up to his neck in the sand and proceed to torment him. She became very adept at describing in total detail what she was going to do to him that night in bed, and what she was going to make him do to her. Harry could take it for about ten minutes, and then he would spring up with sand flying everywhere, and chase her down the beach. He didn’t run as fast as he could because the view from behind was so enjoyable: Ginny’s slender form in a teensy two-piece bathing suit with her hair streaming behind her. But Ginny also wasn’t exactly flat-out sprinting, and eventually she would “trip” and fall and Harry would tumble on top of her. He would then Summon the blankets and they would put one over themselves and make love on the beach.

Their nights were pure passion. They had been intimate for a year before the honeymoon, but every night at Shell Cottage they discovered a new way to become closer, to bring each other more pleasure. They always fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms. One night they decided to take turns waking each other up; they barely slept, and dawn found them lying spread-eagled on the bed, glassy-eyed, sweaty, and exhausted with the covers kicked off. When they heard Winky downstairs, Harry fell out of bed, put on a robe, and stumbled downstairs. He took the breakfast tray—not noticing that Winky’s eyes were bulging twice as much as they usually did—and managed to get it upstairs without dumping it. That day they stayed in bed, sleeping until it was time for dinner.

Once, they woke up in the middle of the night and couldn’t fall back to sleep, so they dressed and went downstairs. The cottage was dark and very quiet. They went outside into the cool night and walked along the cliff above the beach. The moon was less than half full so they took a chance and lit their wands very low. They could hear insects and frogs, and also the waves breaking on the sand below. They stopped and lay back on the grass, looking up at the stars, counting shooting stars, holding hands tightly, speaking to each other through their hearts. They returned to the cottage before dawn and went back to bed, sleeping until the middle of the morning, and when they awoke they lay in each other’s arms, just holding on, feeling their closeness grow.

On Friday, the last day before they returned to the Burrow, they walked to the fishing village. The sun was out, as it had been for two weeks, and they walked hand-in-hand, barefoot, carrying their trainers and socks. The waves were up and the breeze blew in from the sea.

“I can’t believe it’s almost over,” Harry said. “Going back to the real world is going to be a letdown.”

Ginny was silent, but Harry glanced at her. Then she smiled and he nodded; _their_ reality was different, it was what happened in the space inside, the space that they shared.

“Still,” he said, “you have to go to training camp and I’ll have to go back to the Ministry. We won’t be able to stay up all night.”

“Not on weekdays.” Ginny moved closer and bumped her hip against him. “But there’s still weekends. That’ll just make it sweeter.”

Harry put his arm around her waist. “I don’t see how it could be any sweeter than it is.”

 _It can always be sweeter,_ was the feeling in both of their minds. He looked at her and they kissed as they walked.

People in the village greeted them as they strolled along the street. Curiosity had grown among the Muggles about this mysterious young couple who were honeymooning somewhere down the coast, no one could say exactly where. They remembered them from last summer, but they were different now; something about them made other people feel good. On top of that, no one could remember having two weeks in July with not a cloud in the sky.

They went into the grocery and told the owner they were leaving tomorrow. They bought some candy and he gave them another box of chocolates and wished them well. They wandered down to the docks and watched the gulls and offered some candy to children playing there. Then they walked back to Shell Cottage.

They decided to sleep on the beach that night. Harry brought several blankets and pillows down from the cottage, and created a circle of spells to hide them from any Muggles who might stray onto the beach. They made a fire, and Harry conjured a table next to it.

They brought their dinner and Fleur’s veela candelabra down and enjoyed the tenderest roast beef they had ever eaten. There was also fresh bread and a tossed salad. Magic filled the air; when Harry looked across the table at Ginny, sitting in veela candlelight with her hair falling around her shoulders and her veela necklace shimmering on her bosom, he was bewitched.

 _I’m bewitched too,_ he heard in his heart, _forever._

That night their passion soared. They started underneath the blanket, but soon they threw it off because they wanted to feel the air on their skin and see the stars. In the sanctuary of the charmed circle, they lay naked, moving their hands and their mouths over each other for hours, just to make themselves crave each other more. They became enveloped in the smells of love, the flowery fragrance of Ginny, the sweat of Harry. They never slept, but never grew sleepy; their love was an imperative that would allow nothing else to exist.

It began to grow light out over the far horizon. They sat on the cool sand wrapped in a blanket waiting for sunrise, and as dawn approached, their whole lives became visible. It was going to be like the upcoming day, full of sunshine, maybe a few clouds, always being next to each other, Harry seeing her beautiful face every day, hearing her magical voice saying his name, watching her eyes sparkle, listening to her laughter that would make the sun shine a little brighter. Ginny would feel his protecting presence, his strength, his need for her, see his boyish grin, his emerald eyes like sparks in the night.

At any time, now or for the rest of their lives, they could simply reach out and a hand would be there, a heart would be there. They could peer into brown or green eyes and feel themselves melting together. They could make love and their bodies would merge as that mysterious joining would occur, like the moment at their wedding when they had become one person.

They would continue to grow together; they would continue to learn how to live with each other as partners and as two souls who knew what it was to be one soul, whose very essences were completely known to each other. They would never be able to hide anything, not a thought, not a feeling, not a desire, not a joy, not a fear. It would be intriguing to see how that played out as they grew closer and closer. They both suspected there would be problems, but they could not imagine how the problems could not be resolved.

Dawn was about to burst on the world; the edge of the sun must be just below the horizon. Harry reached out his hand and Ginny’s was there. When they touched and their fingers joined, he saw in his mind every thought and every feeling of hers, and he knew that she now knew every thought and feeling of his. They felt the wind in their faces and saw the sea, the rising sun, and themselves.

 

The End


End file.
